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VOLUM 

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LIBRARY 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

SANTA  BARBARA 


PRESENTED  BY 

MRS.  MACKINLEY  HELM 


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THE    OLD    REGIME 

COURT,   SALONS   AND   THEATRES 
Volume  I. 


LADY  JACKSON'S  WORKS. 

14    VOLUMES. 
OLD  PARIS.     Its  Court  and  Literary  Salons.     2  vols. 

THE   OLD   REOIME.     Court,   Salons   and    Theatres. 

2  vols. 

THE  COURT  OF  FRANCE  in  the  Sixteenth  Century, 
'5«4-'S59.      2  vols. 

THE    LAST    OF    THE    VALOIS,    and    Accession    ol 
Henry  of  Navarre,  1559-1580.     2  vols. 

THE    FIRST    OF    THE    BOURBONS,    1589-1595.      2 
vols. 

THE    FRENCH    COURT    AND    SOCIETY.      Reign  of 
Louis  XVI.  and  First  Empire.    2  vols. 

THE    COURT    OP    THE    TUILER1ES,   from  the   Res- 
toration to  the  Flight  of  Louis  Philippe.    2  vols. 

JOSEPH  KNIGHT  COMPANY,  Publishers, 

BOSTON,   MASS. 


fl&arie  Uec3insfca 


THE 

OLD    REGIME 

COURT,    SALONS    AND    THEATRES 

BY 

CATHERINE  CHARLOTTE,  LADY  JACKSON 


"  Le  dixseptieme  siecle  fut  l'epoque  du  g^nie  et  des  oeuvres  d'imagination  ; 
le  dixhuitieme  fut  celle  du  doute,  des  recherches  et  des  sciences  exactes." 

"  Aux  £lans  de  I'imagination  succede  Peculation  du  savoir,  et  le  bel-esprit 
remplace  le  genie.  L'orgueil  humain  met  en  doute  tout  ce  qu'il  ne  comprend 
pas,  et  le  siecle  savant  devient  sceptique." 

De  Tocqueville. 


In  Two  Volumes 
VOL.    I. 


eSEttfj  Ellustratt'ons 


BOSTON 
JOSEPH    KNIGHT    COMPANY 
1896 


Colonial  \$xc$s 

C.  H.  Simonds  &  Co.  Boston,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


\°>\ 

3 


I7NIVE3  r  in0ENIA 

SANTA  BARBARA 


£ 


CONTENTS   OF   VOL.    I. 


PAGE 

Introductory  Chapter     .....        i 

CHAPTER   II. 

The  Council  of  Regency.  —  Le  Due  d'Orleans  Declared 
Regent.  —  Courting  Popularity.  —  First  Acts  of  the 
Regent.  —  Golden  Opinions. — The  Young  King.  —  His 
First  Lit-de-Justice. — The  King  and  His  Governor. — The 
King's  First  Public  Speech.  —  Popularity  of  the  Regent.     16 

CHAPTER    III. 

The  Regency.  —  Its  Libertinage.  —  The  Regent's  Roues. — 
Seeking  Interviews  with  Satan.  —  Madame  Lucifer.  — 
Madame,  the  Regent's  Mother.  —  Audacity  of  Voltaire. — 
Character  of  the  Regent.  —  "  Un  Fanfaron  de  Vices."  — 
Yet  Generally  Popular.  —  The  Regent's  Gallantry  .     25 

CHAPTER   IV. 

Un  Salon  tres  Respectable.  —  The  Hotel  Lambert.  —  La 
Marquise  de  Lambert.  —  The  Palais  Mazarin. —  Weekly 
Literary  Dinners.  —  French  Cooks  of  the  Eighteenth 
Century.  —  The  Wealthy  Financiers.  —  A  Party  of  Old 
Friends.  —  La  Motte-Houdart.  —  Homer  and  Madame 
Dacier.  —  The  Salon  Lambert.  —  The  Bureau  d'Esprit. — 
The  Goddess  of  Sceaux.  —  The  Marquis  de  St.  Aulaire.  — 
The  Due  du  Maine.  —  A  Desperate  Little  Woman. — 
Portrait  of  the  Duchess.  —  Genealogical  Researches. — 
Drowsy  Reading       .  .  .  .  .  -35 

CHAPTER   V. 

Royal  Academy  of  Music. — Opera,  Paniers,  and  Masks. — 
"See  Paris,  and  Die!"  —  Watteau's  Early  Studies. —  Cos- 
tumes a  la  Watteau.  —  Bals  de  l'Opera.  —  La  Duchesse 
de  Berri.  —  La  Duchesse,  en   Reine.  —  La   Duchesse,  en 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Penitence. —  Le    Comte  de    Riom.  —  Mdme.   de   Mainte- 
non's  Nieces  ..... 


CHAPTER    VI. 


52 


Return  of  the  Italian  Troupe.  —  Les  Troupes  Foraines. — 
Vaudeville  and  Opera  Comique.  —  Winter  and  Summer 
Fairs.  —  Theatre  de  la  Foire  Suppressed    .  .  .62 

CHAPTER   VII. 

Michel  Baron.  —  Bembourg  as  Neron.  —  Horace  and  Ca- 
mille.  —  Adrienne  Le  Couvreur. — Ths.  Comeille's  "Comte 
d'Essex." — Baron  Returns  to  the  Stage. — -A  Cassar;  a 
Baron;  a  Roscius.  —  A  Second  Triumphant  Debut.- — Le 
Premier  Baron  de  France.  —  The  Grand  Pretre  in  "  Atha- 
lie."  —  The  Prince  and  the  Actor.  —  "  Mon  Pauvre 
Boyron."  —  An  Actress's  Dinners  and  Suppers.  —  Results 
of  Popularity.  —  Voltaire  and  His  Nurse.  —  Galland's 
"  Arabian  Nights "    .  .  .  .  .  .67 

CHAPTER    VIII. 

Racine's  Academic  Address.  —  A  Political  Intrigante. — The 
Spanish  Plot.  —  Arrest  of  La  Duchesse  du  Maine.  —  Con- 
fessions and  Apologies.  —  A  Traitor  in  the  Camp.  —  A 
General  Lover.  —  The  Eye's  Eloquence.  —  A  Persevering 
Lover.  —  Results  of  Gallantry.  —  La  Duchesse  de  Riche- 
lieu.—  The  Due  de  Modena.  —  A  Desponding  Bride.  —  A 
Heartless  Lover.  —  A  Learned  Academician.  —  A  Noble 
Badaud  .  .  .  .  .  .  .81 

CHAPTER    IX. 

Une  Negligee. —  Louis  XV.  —  The  Financier's  Wife.  —  A 
Fashionable  Financier. — The  Vicomte  and  Vicomtesse 
de  F .  —  John  Law.  —  La  Banque  du  Roi  —  The  Mis- 
sissippi Company.  —  The  Rue  Quincampoix.  —  Cupidity 
and  Despair. —  Grand  Hotels  and  Opera  Boxes.  —  The 
Courtiers  Pay  Their  Debts.  —  The  "  Regent "  and  the 
"  Sancy."  —  The  First  Blow  to  the  Systeme.  —  Deceived 
and  Ruined.  —  Law  Escapes  to  Flanders.  —  A  Change 
from  Paris  to  Brussels.  —  Order  out  of  Disorder    .  .     95 

CHAPTER   X. 

Death  of  Madame  de  Maintenon.  —  The  Czar's  Visit  to  St. 
Cyr.  —  A  Complimentary  Salutation.  —  The  Czar  Peter  in 


C0A'7'£XTS  ix 


PAGE 

Paris.  —  Thirst  for  Useful  Knowledge.  —  Special  "  Inter- 
viewing."—  The  Invitation  to  the  Ball.  —  Effect  of  Peter's 
Visit  to  Paris.  —  Madame  de  Caylus.  —  Palais  Royal  Ban- 
quets.—  Bechamel,  Marin,  Soubise.  —  Supper  after  the 
Opera.  —  Fashions  of  the  Period.  —  The  Ladies'  Toilettes. 
—  Les  Belles  Dames  at  Supper. — An  Example  to  the 
Czar  .  .  .  •  •  •  •  •   no 


CHAPTER   XL 

The  Turkish  Ambassador.  —  The  Turk's  Blessing.  —  The 
King's  Unwonted  Docility.  —  The  Young  King's  Amuse- 
ments.—  The  King's  Pastors  and  Masters. — The  King 
and  His  Confessor.  —  Massillon's  Petit  Careme.  —  The 
Preaching  of  Massillon.  —  Massillon  in  Society.  —  Ville- 
roi's  Devotion  to  His  King. —  A  Youthful  Gambler. — ■ 
Projected  Marriages. — The  Bulle  Unigenitus. — A  Very 
Vicious  Bull. — -Taken  by  the  Horns.  —  The  Marriages 
Arranged        .  .  .  .  .  .  124 

CHAPTER    XII. 

The  New  Cardinal  Archbishop. —  An  Unwilling  Bride- 
groom.—  A  Sorrowful  Fate.  —  The  Chateau  de  Ram- 
bouillet.  —  The  Rambouillet  Menage  .  .  .   139 

CHAPTER    XIII. 

Madame  de  Tencin. — Gambling  at  the  Hotel  Tencin.  —  A 
Terrible  Reputation. — "  Le  Grand  Cyrus."  —  "  Le  Comte 
de  Comminges."  —  A  Delighted  Audience.  —  Voltaire  on 
His  Knees.  —  Destouches  and  Marivaux.  —  Veteran  Lead- 
ers of  Society. —  The  Literary  Menagerie.  —  Madame  de 
Tencin's  Suppers.  —  Up  to  the  Ankles  in  Mud.  —  Fonte- 
nelle's  Mistake  .  .  .  .  .  .   143 

CHAPTER    XIV. 

Exuberant  Joy.  —  Dining  in  Public.  —  Public  Rejoicings.  — 
Loyalty  Still  Flourishes.  —  The  Marechal  de  Villeroi. — 
When  Louis  XIY.  was  Young.  —  The  Majestic  Perruque. 

—  A  Grand  Seigneur  of  the  ( )ld  Regime.  —  Fireworks  of 
the  Eighteenth  Century.  —  The  Young  King's  Greeting. — 
The  Grand  Bow  Louis  XIV.  —  Villeroi  Dismissed.  —  Un 
Abbe  Elegant.. —  The  bishop  Retires  to  Issy. — Coronation 
of  Louis  XV. —  Death  of  Dubois. —  Dubois's  Immense 
Wealth.  —  Political  Lessons.  —  The  Regent  First  Minister. 

—  Death  of  the  Regent.         .  .  .  .  •    L55 


CONTENTS 


CHArTER    XV. 

Monsieur  le  Due.  —  Taking  Time  by  the  Forelock.  —  The 
New  Limits  of  Paris. — -The  Reverbere  Invented.  —  Dark 
Streets  of  Old  Paris.  —  Crossing  the  Gutters.  —  What  Be- 
came of  the  Children.  —  The  Liveliest  City  in  Europe.- — 
Shopkeepers'  Signboards. — The  Lieutenant  of  Police. — 
The  Terrible  "  Damne." — Police  Espionnage.  —  A  Keeper 
of  Secrets       .  .  .  .  .  .  .   173 

CHAPTER   XVI. 

The  Palais  Royal  Gardens. — Married,  but  Unattached, 
Couples. — -Que  Voulez-vous?  C'est  la  Mode. —  Le  Haute 
Bourgeoisie.  —  Ennobled  Bourgeoises.  —  Summer  Evening 
Strolls. — -The  Chestnut  Avenue.  —  Expulsion  of  the  In- 
fanta.—  Supplanting  the  Bishop.- — The  Regent's  Daugh- 
ters.—  Mdlle.  de  Vermandois.  —  Portrait  of  Louis  XV. — 
The  Infanta. — The  Rambouillet  Circle. — Marie  Leczinska. 

—  L'Eveque  de  Frejus.  —  The  King's  Preceptor.  —  The 
Royal  Bride. — The  Young  Bridegroom.  —  The  Queen's 
Dowry  .......  185 

CHAPTER    XVII. 

Sledging  at  Versailles. — La  Dame  du  Palais.  —  The  Queen's 
Secluded  Life.  —  Piety  of  the  Queen  and  King. — The 
Sound  of  the  Hunting  Horn. — The  Good  Old  Days. — 
The  Rain  and  the  Sunshine.  —  Intrigues  of  Mdme.  de 
Prie. — The  Bishop  Retires  to  Issy. — A  Domestic  Tempest. 

—  A  Scene  at  the  Theatre. — Two  Lettres-de-Cachet. — 
Paris-Duvernay. — -Fortune's  Wheel  Moves  Round. — -An 
Old  Normandy  Chateau. — -Death  of  Madame  de  Prie       .  202 

CHAPTER    XVIII. 

Fleury's  Economy.  —  Mimi  and  Titite.  —  "Notre  Toulouse." 

—  Mdlle.  de  Vichy-Chamroud.  —  A  Singular  Caprice. — 
The  Epidemic  —  Ennui. — An  Interesting  Couple.  —  A 
Desolate  Normandy  Chateau. — The  Menagerie  in  Eclipse. 

—  Emerging  from  the  Cloud.  —  "  Le  Poeme  de  la  Ligue." 

—  A  Pious  Theft.  — A  Noble  Chevalier.  — "  Rohan  je 
suis." — Homage  to  Madame  du  Deffant.  —  "Adieu,  la 
Belle  France."  ......  218 

CHAPTER   XIX. 

Prayers  for  a  Dauphin. — The  Prayer  is  Granted. — Louis  XV. 
a  Model   Husband.  —  Baron's   Final   Retirement.  —  Death 


CONTENTS  xi 


PAGE 

of  Adrienne  Le  Couvreur. —  Jealous  Rivals.  —  Generosity 
of  Adrienne.  —  Burial  of  Mdlle.  Le  Couvreur. — Voltaire's 
Lines  on  Adrienne.  —  Zaire,  ou  Les  Enfants  Trouves. — 
Grandval  the  Actor.  —  The  Prime  Donne. —  Rameau. — 
The  Abbe  Pelligem.  —  A  Musical  Cabal. — -Voltaire  et  les 
Danseuses.  —  The  Apotheosis  of  Hercules.  —  Boucher's 
Painting-Room  ......  233 


CHAPTER   XX. 

A  Drawing-Room  Picture.  —  The  Voung  Comte  de  Mira- 
beau. — Rival  Gambling  Salons. — The  Foundling,  d'Alem- 
bert.  —  The  Irrepressible  Bull. — Mdlle.  Daucour.  —  The 
Rich  Fermier-General. —  The  Hotel  La  Popliniere.  —  A 
Scene  of  Enchantment.  —  A  French  Mephistophiles. — 
The  Banished  Wife.  —  The  Infamous  de  Richelieu.  .  249 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

The  a  l'Anglaise  and  a  Lecture. — The  Queen's  Privy  Purse. 

—  The  President  Henault.  —  Le  Marquis  d'Argenson. — 
Defence  of  the  Cardinal.  —  The  Cardinal's  Petit  Coucher. 

—  Mademoiselle  Ai'sse.  —  The  Chevalier  d'Aydie.  —  The 
Sleep  of  Death.  — History  of  the  Fair  Haidee.  —  Les 
Devotionnettes. —  A  Warning  Sign  from  on  High. — 
Miss  Black     .......  260 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

Conspiracy  of  the  Marmosets.  —  The  Due  de  Gevres.  —  The 
Ducal  Gambling-House. —  An  Interesting  Invalid. —  Court 
Secrets.  —  Tapestry- Working  Statesmen.  —  The  Queen 
Grows  Jealous. — The  Coiffure  of  Madame  de  Gontaut. — ■ 
Madame  de  Mailly. — The  King  Accepts  a  Mistress.  —  The 
Petits  Soupers  at  Choisy.  —  Stanislaus  Leczinski.  —  The 
Brave  Brehant  de  Plelo.  —  The  Court  of  Lorraine.  — 
Death  of  Madame  de  Vintimille       .... 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 


273 


Jean  Jacques  Rousseau. — The  Salon  of  Mdme.  Dupin. — 
Jean  Jacques  and  Mdme.  de  Crequy.  —  Fausses  Confi- 
dences. —  Jean  Jacques  Returns  to  Paris.  —  Voltaire's 
Grand  Homme.  —  Un  Mari,  a  la  Mode  Louis  XV.  — 
Voltaire's  "Mahomet." — Debut  of  Mdlle.  Clairon.  —  A 
Triumph. —  Sensation  for  the  Salons  .  ,.  .  287 


xii  CONTENTS 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 


Death  of  Cardinal  Fleury.  —  His  Government  of  France. — 
Proposed  Monument  to  Fleury.  —  Disappointed  Ambition. 

—  Threatened  Descent  on  England.— A  Rival  to  Maurice 
de  Saxe.  —  Seeking  Refuge  at  Versailles. — The  King's 
Hospitality.  — The  "Mutual  Friend."— The  Cardinal's 
Successor. —  Going  to  the  Wars.  —  A  Solemn  Thanks- 
giving.—  Mdme.  Le  Normand  d'Etioles.  —  Illness  of  the 
King. — "  Le  Bien  Aime." — -Louis's  Letter  to  the  Duchess. 

—  Death  of  the  Duchess. —  Her  Last  Words  .  .  297 


LIST   OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Volume  I. 

PAGE 

Marie  Leczinska Frontispiece 

Thilippe,  Due  d'Orleans,  Regent               ...  33 

Adrienne  Le  Couvreur 7S 

Madame  de  Parabere 106 

fontenelle 1 52 

Louis  XV 195 

Madame  de  Tencin 249 

Jean  Jacques  Rousseau 287 


THE  OLD    REGIME 

COURT,   SALONS   AND    THEATRES 


CHAPTER    I. 

INTRODUCTORY. 

FEELING  of  joy  thrills  through  every 
pulse  in  the  nation.  The  French  peo- 
ple are  aware  that  their  Grand  Mo- 
narqne  is  stricken  down  by  disease  which  seems 
likely  to  terminate  in  death.  Deliverance  at  last, 
then,  is  at  hand.  Deliverance  from  a  moral  in- 
cubus, as  it  were,  that  has  long  weighed  heavily 
on  all  classes,  and,  ever  increasing  in  oppressive- 
ness, is  become  a  burden  to  them  well-nigh  intol- 
erable. 

During  the  past  year  the  king's  health  had 
been  visibly  declining.  He  had  undergone,  also, 
unusual  mental  anxiety.  The  expediency  of  nom- 
inating a  Council  of  Regency,  and  giving  his 
legitimated  sons  prominent  posts  in  it,  had  been 
urged    on    him    with    extreme    persistency,     by 


2  THE    OLD   REGIME 

Madame  de  Maintenon  and  the  Duchesse  du 
Maine.  They  suggested  that  thus  would  the 
recently  conferred  rights  of  those  princes,  who,  in 
the  possible  failure  of  the  legitimate  line,  were  to 
be  called  on  to  ascend  the  throne,  be  more  firmly 
secured  to  them.  At  the  same  time,  a  needful 
check  would  be  placed  on  the  ambitious,  even 
criminal,  views  attributed  to  the  dissolute  Due 
d' Orleans,  in  the  near  prospect  of  his  assuming 
the  regency.  The  king  adopted  the  course  rec- 
ommended, to  free  himself,  it  has  been  said,  from 
further  importunity.  But,  as  if  foreseeing  how 
little  consideration  such  an  arrangement  would 
receive  when  the  time  came  for  giving  effect  to  it, 
Saint -Simon  asserts  that  when  Louis  XIV.  had 
signed  this  important  testament,  he  exclaimed, 
"  II  deviendra  ce  qtiil  pourra;  mais  an  moins  je 
serai  tranquillc,  etje  rien  entendrai  plus  parler." 

This  was  in  17 14.  He  had  made  these  con- 
cessions, then,  to  purchase  repose  for  the  brief 
span  of  time  that  remained  to  him.  But  he  did 
not  yet  allow  that  he  felt  any  symptoms  of  dis- 
ease. He  said  he  was  perfectly  well,  he  indeed 
resented  the  allusions  to  his  impaired  state  of 
health  conveyed  in  the  recommendations  of  his 
physician,  at  the  suggestion  of  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon,  that  his  majesty  would  eat  fewer  straw- 
berries and  green  peas.  His  constitution  had 
been  vigorous.  Habitually  he  drank  little  wine, 
but  he  ate  voraciously,  often  in  the  course  of  the 


THE   KING'S   FAILING   HEALTH  3 

night.  He  had  always  had  a  very  large  appetite, 
which  he  still  retained  and  continued  to  indulge, 
not  only  with  immoderate  quantities  of  strawber- 
ries and  peas,  but  with  a  variety  of  highly  seasoned 
dishes.*  For  another  twelve  months  he  bore  up 
bravely  enough  ;  neither  discontinued  nor  short- 
ened his  accustomed  daily  walks,  notwithstanding 
uncomfortable  sensations  in  the  legs,  nor  absented 
himself  from  the  royal  hunts,  though  he  returned 
from  them  much  out  of  temper,  being  prostrated 
by  fatigue. 

But  on  the  13th  of  August,  171 5,  still  heed- 
less of  the  warnings  he  had  received  to  menagcr 
his  failing  strength,  he  gave  audience,  standing, 
to  the  Persian  ambassador  and  his  suite,  and  con- 
versed with  him,  through  an  interpreter,  for  a 
considerable  time.  The  next  day  he  was  com- 
pelled to  succumb.  His  despotic  will  had  sub- 
dued and  crushed  out  the  spirit  of  a  great  nation, 
but  its  strength  was  found  weakness  in  the 
struggle  with  failing  nature.  So  the  Grand  Mo- 
narque  kept  his  bed  that  clay,  hoping  to  rise  on 
the  morrow  with  strength  recruited  and  well 
braced  up  for  his  customary  part  in  the  ceremo- 
nial to  be  observed  on  the  great  Fete  of  Saint 
Louis.  After  receiving  the  Eucharist,  the  solemn 
farce  of  touching  for  the  king's  evil  was  then 
usually  performed,  the  suppliants  kneeling  in  a 
line   on  either  side  of  the  corridor  leading  from 

*Lettres  de  Mdme.  de  Maintenon. 


4  THE    OLD   REGIME 

the  chapel  to  the  palace.  As  the  shadow  of  the 
superb  Louis  fell  upon  these  poor  creatures,  and 
the  act  of  grace  conveyed  in  the  touch  of  the 
royal  hand  of  the  "  Anointed  of  the  Lord  and 
eldest  son  of  the  Church "  was  vouchsafed  to 
them,  the  Cardinal  Grand  Almoner,  with  attend- 
ant bishops,  followed,  cu  grande  tcuuc,  repeat- 
ing the  formula,  "  Le  roi  te  touclic,  Dieu  te  gue- 
risse." 

It  appears  that  an  unusually  large  number  of 
suffering  children  had  been  brought  from  various 
parts  of  France,  for  this  particular  fete,  as  a  fa- 
vourable occasion  for  the  cure  of  their  ailments 
by  the  royal  touch.  Great,  therefore,  was  the 
disappointment  and  despair  of  the  friends  of  these 
unfortunates,  when  it  was  announced  that  the 
ceremony  could  not  take  place.  The  king  was 
very  languid  and  weak  that  morning,  and  his 
physicians  declared  that  an  attempt  to  attend 
would  be  fatal  to  him.  To  weakness  succeeded 
pain,  but  it  was  not  until  the  25th,  though  daily 
growing  worse,  sight  and  hearing  also  failing  him, 
that  he  would  believe  death  to  be  so  near  at 
hand.  It  was  then  that  the  Grand  Almoner, 
Cardinal  de  Rohan,  thinking  the  occasion  one 
likely  to  be  productive  of  much  spiritual  consola- 
tion to  the  ailing  monarch,  and  of  especial  benefit 
to  the  halt  and  the  maimed  who  sought  healing 
from  his  touch,  mentioned  to  the  king  that  the 
presbytery  was  crowded  with  poor  sick  folk,  come 


HIS    TEMPORARY  REVIVAL  5 

from  afar,  for  his  Majesty's  Fete.  The  cure  of 
Versailles  had  charitably  assembled  them  there, 
and,  as  means  offered,  was  despatching  them  to 
their  homes.  But  the  cardinal  interfered  and 
prevented  this,  and  obtained  the  king's  consent  to 
the  ceremony  of  the  attouchement  being  per- 
formed in  his  bedchamber,  on  the  morning  of  the 
26th.  The  fatigue  of  it  was  so  great  that,  al- 
though his  hands  were  supported  by  the  ecclesi- 
astics at  his  bedside,  it  was  not  fully  completed 
when  the  king  fell  heavily  back  on  his  cushions, 
as  if  dead. 

For  upwards  of  five  hours  he  remained  in  a  state 
of  utter  unconsciousness.  So  little  was  he  ex- 
pected to  revive,  that  Madame  de  Maintenon  was 
prevailed  on  to  leave  for  St.  Cyr,  and,  as  no  signs 
of  returning  life  were  perceived  after  three  hours' 
anxious  watching,  the  courtiers  who  crowded  the 
salons  and  antechambers  of  the  palace  gradually 
departed  to  fill  the  hitherto  deserted  apartments 
of  the  Due  d' Orleans. 

But  Louis  XIV.  still  lives,  recovers  from  his 
lengthened  swoon,  and  inquires  for  Madame  de 
Maintenon,  for  whom  a  courier  is  instantly  des- 
patched. The  news,  the  unwelcome  news,  swiftly 
reaches  the  Palais  Royal.  Immediately  the  wor- 
shippers of  the  rising  sun  fly  back  to  pay  homage 
to  the  setting  luminary ;  whom,  in  their  precipi- 
tancy, when  but  obscured  by  a  passing  cloud,  they 
believed  already   sunk  below   the   horizon.     Ver- 


6  THE    OLD   REGIME 

sailles  again  swarms  with  anxious  inquirers,  and 
the  Due  d' Orleans  is  left  once  more  alone.  He 
laughs  cynically  at  the  practical  lesson  he  has 
received  of  the  truth  of  the  maxim  of  his  former 
preceptor,  the  Abbe  Dubois,  who  had  striven  to 
impress  it  indelibly  on  his  mind,  that  "the  main- 
spring of  all  men's  actions  is  sheer  self-interest." 
It  is  the  basis  of  the  duke's  moral  creed,  that 
virtue  is  wholly  non-existent,  and  that  the  so-called 
moral  qualities,  though  invested  with  names,  are 
but  the  sentimental  imaginings  of  the  inexperi- 
enced and  weak-minded. 

An  empiric,  who  had  treated  with  success  some 
complaints  of  the  same  sciatic  nature  as  that  from 
which  the  king  was  supposed  to  be  suffering,  was 
permitted  to  prescribe  for  him  a  so-called  elixir. 
Its  effects  were  speedy,  and  apparently  beneficial ; 
a  satisfaction  to  the  very  few  who  desired  the  pro- 
longation of  a  reign  already  too  long  by  fifteen 
years,  as  most  persons  thought.  The  revival,  how- 
ever, was  but  as  a  transitory  gleam  from  a  fading 
fire  ;  the  spark  of  life  was  too  nearly  extinct  to  be 
rekindled.  Louis  himself  was  quite  conscious  of 
it,  and  expressed  a  wish  that  his  successor  should 
be  brought  to  him,  and  his  family  assemble  around 
him.  He  remarked  on  the  29th  that  he  had  not 
heard  the  aubade,  or  military  revcil,  which  it  was 
customary,  at  dawn  of  day,  to  play  under  his  cham- 
ber windows ;  and  he  gave  orders  that  neither  it, 
nor  the  usual  daily  performance  in  the  Salle  des 


DEATH-BED    OF  LOUIS  XIV  7 

Gardes,  at  his  dinner  hour,  of  the  sixty  musicians 
of  his  private  band,  should  be  discontinued,  until 
the  Grand  Almoner  announced  the  administra- 
tion of  the  last  sacraments. 

The  regret,  the  remorse,  said  to  have  been 
evinced  by  Louis  XIV.  for  many  of  the  acts  of  his 
past  life  ;  his  injunctions  to  his  youthful  heir  to 
avoid  treading  in  the  path  of  vainglory  he  had 
himself  pursued,  and  which  had  brought  so  much 
sorrow  and  suffering  on  the  nation  ;  his  recom- 
mendation of  the  aged  Madame  de  Maintenon  to 
the  kindness  and  generosity  of  his  nephew ;  and 
his  somewhat  specious  statement  to  that  nephew 
respecting  the  provisions  of  his  testament,  need 
not  here  be  enlarged  upon.  Nor  is  it  necessary 
to  repeat  the  speeches  attributed  to  him  on  his 
death-bed.  Those  stagey,  oratorical  death-beds 
are  the  reverse  of  edifying ;  and  it  is  probable 
that  the  king  was  as  little  loquacious  as  poor 
human  nature  at  its  last  gasp  usually  is.  The 
Grand  Monarque  died  on  the  first  of  September, 
and  the  announcement  of  "  his  death  was  hailed 
throughout  France  with  an  explosion  of  delight  ; " 
for  it  was  regarded  as  the  end  of  a  public  calamity, 
the  removal  of  the  yoke  of  bondage  he  had  bound 
on  the  neck  of  the  nation. 

Such  was  the  agitated  state  of  public  feeling  in 
the  first  frenzied  burst  of  popular  joy,  that  it  was 
deemed  expedient,  in  order  to  avoid  insult  from  a 
turbulent  crowd  that  surrounded  Versailles,  to  con- 


8  THE    OLD   REGIME 

vey  Madame  de  Maintenon  to  St.  Cyr,  in  the  pri- 
vate carriage  of  Marechal  de  Villeroi ;  also  to  post 
small  parties  of  guards  at  short  intervals  along  the 
road,  to  protect  her  from  ill-treatment  should  she 
be  recognized.  The  reliqucs  worn  by  the  king, 
and  which,  probably,  were  her  gifts,  were  handed 
to  her.  They  became  objects  of  fervent  adora- 
tion at  St.  Cyr.  A  piece  of  the  "  wood  of  the  true 
cross,"  amongst  " des  mieux  averecs  de  reliqucs" 
she  says,  she  presented  to  her  niece,  Madame  de 
Caylus,  a  lady  of  very  wavering  faith  and  worldly 
tastes. 

Louis  XIV.  had,  doubtless,  succeeded  in  con- 
vincing himself,  as  well  as  his  subjects,  that  he 
was  the  incarnation  of  glory  and  grandeur.  He 
was  actually  the  centre  of  authority,  and  the 
possessor  of  power  more  irresponsible  and  abso- 
lute than  any  French  monarch  before  or  since 
has  wielded.  To  stamp  out  the  vigour  of  the 
nation,  to  suppress  the  slightest  manifestation  of 
national  sentiment,  were  the  great  objects  of  his 
reign,  from  the  time  of  the  Fronde.  If  he  had 
acquired  little  else,  he  had  thoroughly  acquired 
the  art  of  reigning  with  despotic  and  uncontrolled 
sway.  In  that  sense,  and  in  that  alone,  Louis 
XIV.  was  a  great  king ;  though  very  far  indeed 
from  being  a  great  man.  He  was  the  light  and 
glory,  the  sun  and  centre,  of  the  system  of  gov- 
ernment of  which  he  was  the  creator.  It  was 
his  sublime  good  pleasure,  as  ruler  of  France,  to 


DESPOTISM  OF  LOUIS  XIV  9 

be  all  things  to  all  men  ;  to  allow  them  no  will  of 
their  own,  but  to  make  his  the  pivot  on  which 
opinion  and  feeling  throughout  the  nation  should 
turn.  And  he  succeeded ;  so  readily  do  the 
French  yield  to  a  high-handed  despot.  Men  fell 
into  the  habit  of  saying,  "  Sa  Majesti  m  en  garde" 
instead  of,  " a  Dieu  ne  plaise"  and  generally  of 
speaking  of  their  Grand  Monarque  with  far  more 
humility  and  reverence  than  of  the  Ruler  of  the 
universe.  "  Uetat,  c  etait  lui  —  La  France,  c  etait 
lui" — La  patrie  had  become  an  obsolete  term, 
merged  in  that  of  " Le  Roi." 

The  dissolute  pleasures  of  his  younger  days, 
when  vice  was  so  exquisitely  varnished  that  it 
was  said  to  have  put  on  the  dignified  aspect  of 
virtue,  naturally,  with  advancing  years,  grew  less 
attractive  to  him.  He  turned  then  to  devotion. 
His  court  followed  suit.  Piety  was  the  fashion  ; 
even  the  bourgeoisie  became  more  devout,  and  all 
who  aspired  to  win  favour  wore  a  sanctimonious  air. 

"  Lorsque  le  grand  Louis  brula  d'un  tendre  amour, 
Paris  devint  Cythere,  et  tout  suivit  la  cour; 
Quand  il  se  fit  de"vot,  ardent  a  la  priere, 
Tout  zele  citadin  marmota  son  breviaire." 

Epit.  die  Gd.  Frederic. 

Primness  was  good  taste  with  les  jolies  dames, 
who,  however,  contrived  to  invest  it  with  a  cer- 
tain air  of  espie'glerie  that  was  trh  coquette,  and 
very  effective  under  a  "sad-coloured"  coiffe. 
Court  balls  were  not  wholly  given  up ;  they  were 


IO  THE    OLD   REGIME 

only  less  frequent,  and  the  hours  devoted  to  them 
fewer  ;  perhaps  because  they  were  somewhat  for- 
mal and  dull,  notwithstanding  the  romping  and 
boisterous  gaiety  of  the  young  Duchess  of  Bur- 
gundy. State  concerts  also  sometimes  took  place. 
Madame  de  Maintenon  would  have  had  them  solely 
devoted  to  the  singing  of  the  canticles  of  the 
Church.  But  Louis  was,  in  this  respect,  less 
rigid  than  she.  He  still  loved  to  hear  his  own 
praises,  and  to  sing  them  himself,  in  the  fulsome 
verses  of  Quinault,  set  to  music  by  Lulli.  Lulli's 
music  was  then  thought  rather  out  of  date,  but 
the  king,  who  piqued  himself  on  his  musical  taste, 
would  listen  to  the  works  of  no  other  composer, 
ignoring  altogether  the  rising  reputation  of  Compra 
and  Rameau. 

In  the  absence  of  other  excitement,  play  was 
pursued  with  increased  avidity.  The  stakes  were 
higher,  the  losses  more  ruinous.  It  should  be 
remembered  that  it  was  when  piety  was  most  in 
favour  with  Louis  XIV.,  the  greatest  roue  oi  the 
eighteenth  century  made  his  debut  at  Marly,  and 
was  petted  and  caressed  by  the  whole  court,  in- 
cluding both  Madame  de  Maintenon  and  the  king. 
"C'est  un  prodige"  writes  the  former;  "c'est  la 
plus  aimablc  poupee  dii  monde."  This  prodigy 
was  the  young  Due  de  Fronsac,  afterwards  de 
Richelieu  —  a  libertine  from  his  youth.  He 
danced,  we  are  told,  with  wonderful  grace ;  fenced 
with    inimitable    skill  ;    rode    with    the    ease    and 


"PREMIERS   AMOURS   DE   RICHELIEU"        II 

dashing  bearing  of  an  accomplished  cavalier  ;  and 
sought  the  good  graces  of  the  ladies  with  extraor- 
dinary success.  The  pious  court  of  Marly  was 
the  real  scene  of  "  Les  premiers  amours  dc  Riche- 
lieu."    He  was  then  in  his  fifteenth  year. 

From  twenty  to  thirty  thousand  francs  were 
lost  by  this  brilliant  youth  in  the  course  of  an 
evening  at  a  tete-a-tete  game  of  cards.  He  made 
love  with  exceeding  persistency  to  the  Duchess 
of  Burgundy,  who  at  least  appears  to  have  been 
amused  by  it,  and  to  have  smiled  so  graciously 
upon  him  that  it  gave  rise  to  many  plaisanter- 
ics,  which  reached  the  king's  ears  and  displeased 
him  extremely.  Idle  tongues  were  immediately 
silenced  ;  and  this  dangerous  young  gentleman  — 
already  married  to  Mdlle.  de  Noailles  —  was  dis- 
missed the  court.  A  lettre-de-cachet,  enclosed  in 
a  letter  of  strong  complaint,  was  despatched  to 
his  father,  who  himself  took  charge  of  his  hopeful 
son,  and  conveyed  him  to  the  Bastille.  To  amuse 
him,  for  inability  to  ramble  about  Paris  was  his 
only  punishment,  a  clever,  pleasant-tempered  abbe 
was  sent  to  him,  as  companion  and  tutor.  During 
his  confinement  he  acquired  some  notions  of  read- 
ing and  writing,  and,  assisted  by  the  abbe,  was 
supposed  to  have  translated  Virgil.  De  Fronsac 
was  not  a  solitary  instance  of  vicious  propensities 
in  the  rising  generation  of  courtiers  at  that  period 
of  hypocritical  devotion.  Many  of  the  young  no- 
bility resembled  him,  and  were  looking  forward  no 


12  THE    OLD   REGIME 

less  anxiously  than  the  bourgeoisie  for  the  ardently 
desired  liberty  then  anticipated  from  a  change  of 
rulers. 

Famine  and  pestilence,  meanwhile,  were  fre- 
quent in  the  provinces,  and  their  victims  were 
numerous.  Distress  was  general,  and  so  extremely 
severe  during  the  terrible  winter  of  1709-10,  that 
of  the  mass  of  the  French  people  a  large  propor- 
tion could  scarcely  obtain  bread  to  appease  hunger. 
Yet  letters  and  memoirs  attest  that  the  king  was 
as  selfishly  extravagant  and  reckless  in  expenditure 
as  ever.  New  taxes  were  imposed  on  the  suffering 
people,  for  the  State's  coffers  were  empty.  The 
needs  of  the  king  and  his  armies  were  pressing, 
and  money  must  be  wrung  from  some  quarter. 
Were  not  the  possessions  of  his  subjects  his  to 
their  last  ecu?  —  the  control  of  their  purses,  no  less 
than  the  control  of  their  consciences,  the  indis- 
putable prerogative  of  his  kingly  power  ?  Louis 
XIV.  was  convinced  that  it  was  so.  Yet  he  con- 
scientiously sought  for  his  conviction  the  sanction 
of  high  ecclesiastical  authority. 

"Mankind,"  says  Dr.  Moore,  "is  governed  by 
force  and  opinion.  They  were  the  agents  made 
use  of  by  Louis  XIV.  in  a  supreme  degree.  Aided 
by  them  he  had  brought  his  subjects  to  submit 
with  alacrity  to  heavier  exactions  than  were  ever 
wrung  by  tyranny  from  man."  But  although 
national  pride,  love  of  independence,  and  every 
noble  and  elevating  sentiment  seemed  to  be  extin- 


DISTRESS  IN  FRANCE  I  3 

guished  in  France,  yet,  as  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV. 
drew  towards  its  close,  the  misery  and  ruin  he  had 
wrought  in  the  land  kindled  in  men's  hearts  the 
fire  of  an  intense  hate,  a  feverish  impatience  of  the 
existing  order  of  things,  and  an  ardent  longing  for 
the  end  of  it.  No  wonder,  then,  that  when  the 
end  came  it  was  hailed  throughout  the  land  with 
delirious  joy,  and  that  the  people,  as  with  one  voice, 
shouted  thanksgiving  to  God  for  the  deliverance 
vouchsafed  to  them. 

To  the  infant  prince  who  succeeded  him  Louis 
XIV.  left  a  kingdom  drained  to  the  utmost  of  its 
resources  ;  an  empty  treasury,  and  a  debt  of  near 
two  hundred  millions  sterling ;  lands  ravaged  by 
foreign  foes  ;  commerce  destroyed,  and  once  flour- 
ishing manufactures  extinct.  In  the  ruined  prov- 
inces, a  despairing,  depressed  population ;  and 
amongst  the  enervated  and  corrupt  aristocracy, 
reared  amidst  the  idle  pleasures  of  a  vicious,  hypo- 
critical court,  not  one  able  statesman  to  take  the 
helm  of  a  government,  long  isolated  in  the  person 
of  an  absolute  ruler  whose  place  was  now  filled  by 
so  feeble  an  image  of  royalty. 

Louis  XIV.  left  his  heart  to  the  Jesuits.  His 
body,  on  the  9th  of  September,  was  borne  with 
little  ceremony  to  the  Abbey  of  St.  Denis.  As  at 
the  funeral  of  his  father,  near  seventy-three  years 
before,  "the  people" — to  use  the  words  of  Talle- 
mant  des  Reaux  on  that  occasion  —  "followed  as 
joyously  as  though  going  to  a  wedding."     But  even 


14  THE    OLD   REGIME 

greater  indecorum  was  anticipated.  In  conse- 
quence, the  funeral  procession,  forsaking  the  high 
road,  reached  St.  Denis  by  the  way  of  the  fields 
and  bye-paths.  A  frantic  multitude  had  assembled 
in  the  faubourg,  and  received  "  with  gibes  and 
curses  the  coffin  of  the  conqueror,  whom  they 
accused  of  being  the  cause  of  their  troubles,  and 
of  wars  which  sprang  only  from  his  arrogance, 
ambition,  and  injustice."  *  Throughout  the  day 
a  sort  of  fair  was  held  on  the  Place  near  the 
abbaye,  and  dancing  and  singing,  drinking  and 
jesting,  were  kept  up  with  vociferous  glee  until 
nightfall.  "  On  aurait  dit"  says  De  Tocqueville, 
"  que  la  licence  des  pet  its  soupers  du  regent  de- 
scendait  deja  sur  la  place  pnbliqiic." 

Thus,  preluding,  as  it  were,  to  that  ferociously 
insane  joy  with  which,  eighty  years  later  on,  his 
tomb  was  violated  and  his  ashes  scattered  to  the 
wind,  was  celebrated  the  passing  away  of  the 
Grand  Monarque,  and,  with  it,  as  it  is  customary 
to  say,  the  grandeur  and  glory  of  the  old  French 
Monarchy.  The  revolution  to  be  accomplished 
towards  the  end  of  the  century  may  be  said  to 
have  begun  at  this  time.  The  intervening  period, 
though  too  generally  characterized  by  frivolity  and 
freedom  —  even  licence  —  in  the  manners  of  the 
day,  was,  nevertheless,  in  its  social  aspects  often 
animated  and  dramatic.  Distinct,  be  it  observed, 
from  those  political  events  and  changes  of  govern- 

*  Soulavie. 


THE    OLD   FRENCH  MONARCHY  I  5 

ment  which  led  to  anarchy,  strife  and  bloodshed, 
and  eventually  to  the  overthrow  of  the  monarchy. 
These  are  matters  to  be  left  to  the  grave  historian 
to  descant  upon.  Here  they  need  be  but  very 
cursorily  glanced  at ;  it  being  attempted  only  in 
the  following  pages  to  present  a  brief  sketch  of 
the  society  of  the  eighteenth  century  in  its  various 
phases,  from  the  death  of  Louis  XIV.  to  the  fall 
of  absolutism  and  the  old  French  Regime,  in  the 
person  of  Louis  XVI.  and  of  Marie  Antoinette. 


CHAPTER    II. 

The  Council  of  Regency. — Le  Due  d'Orleans  Declared  Regent. — 
Courting  Popularity.  —  First  Acts  of  the  Regent.— Golden 
Opinions.  —  The  Young  King.  —  His  First  Lit-de- Justice. — 
The  King  and  His  Governor.  —  The  King's  First  Public 
Speech.  —  Popularity  of  the  Regent. 


OUIS  XIV.  died  in  the  evening  ;  and,  as 

|||g)    in  the  two  preceding  reigns,  beginning 

^    also  with  a  regency,  no  time  was  lost  in 


ii-ZZj/JT^S' 


summoning  the  Parliament.  That  judicial  body- 
assembled  before  ten  the  next  morning,  when  the 
princes  of  the  blood,  the  peers  of  the  realm,  and 
a  brilliant  military  cortege,  accompanied  the  Due 
d'Orleans  to  a  seance  of  the  Grand'  cJiambre. 
Many  were  the  protestations,  on  the  part  of  the 
duke,  of  his  excellent  intentions  towards  the  coun- 
try ;  of  his  anxiety  for  the  preservation  of  the  life, 
and  zeal  for  the  welfare,  of  the  young  king.  He 
also  expressed  a  desire  to  be  guided  in  the  fulfil- 
ment of  his  arduous  duties  by  the  enlightened 
counsels  and,  if  needed,  sage  remonstrances  of 
the  august  Parliament  there  assembled.  The  tes- 
tament of  Louis  XIV.  was  then  opened. 

Great  surprise  was  evinced,  and  perhaps  felt,  by 
gome  few  who  had  listened  to  the  duke's  profuse 

16 


LE  DUC  D'  ORLEANS  DECLARED  REGENT    I J 

promises  of  using  the  great  power  confided  to  him 
wisely,  when  it  was  found  that  by  the  late  king's 
will  he  was  appointed  president  only  of  a  Council 
of  Regency.  The  Parliament,  therefore  —  whose 
most  influential  members  had  been  gained  over  by 
the  duke's  partizans  —  being  invested,  as  before, 
with  supreme  authority  for  the  occasion,  at  once 
proceeded  to  discuss  the  expediency  of  setting 
aside  the  testament  of  their  Grand  Monarque.  Its 
most  important  provisions  were  pronounced  illegal ; 
no  less  contrary  to  all  precedent  than  to  the  stat- 
utes of  the  realm.  The  charge  of  the  person  of 
the  young  king,  the  control  of  his  education,  and 
the  command  of  the  household  troops,  were  as- 
signed by  it  to  the  Due  du  Maine.  But  this 
arrangement  was  unhesitatingly  superseded  and, 
without  a  single  dissentient  voice,  both  the  title 
and  the  uncontrolled  powers  of  regent  were  con- 
ferred on  the  Due  d' Orleans.  The  young  Due  de 
Bourbon  —  Conde  —  hideous  in  person,  ignorant 
and  depraved,  and  possessing  his  full  share  of  the 
violence  of  temper  and  brutality  of  disposition  in- 
herent in  his  race  —  put  in  a  claim  to  the  control 
of  the  king's  education.  Not  being  of  the  required 
age,  twenty-four,  his  claim  was  disallowed,  and, 
for  the  time  being,  the  Due  du  Maine  was  per- 
mitted to  hold  the  sinecure  post  of  superintendent 
of  the  child-king's  studies. 

The  authority   exercised  by  the  parliamentary 
body  had  gradually  been  cut  down  to  zero,  during 


I  8  THE    OLD   REGIME 

the  last  forty  years,  by  Louis  XIV.  Nominally  to 
confirm  his  edicts,  seemed  to  be  the  chief  object 
of  the  existence  of  a  Parliament.  Decrees  ema- 
nating from  it  he  annulled  without  scruple,  when 
not  fully  coinciding  with  his  own  private  views. 
The  privilege  of  remonstrating  had  long  been  with- 
held from  it.  However  oppressive  the  taxes,  or 
arbitrary  and  impolitic  the  measures  approved  by 
the  king,  and  imposed  on  the  people,  submission 
was  the  rule,  and  the  Parliament,  to  preserve  its 
own  existence,  consented  to  be  dumb.  Doubtless, 
then,  some  degree  of  secret  satisfaction  was  felt  in 
annulling  the  testament  of  so  imperious  and  abso- 
lute a  ruler.  Some  secret  hope,  too,  probably,  that 
power  and  prestige  might  be  regained  by  the  read- 
iness and  unanimity  with  which  the  aims  of  the 
Due  d'  Orleans  had  been  met  and  accomplished. 

Nor  was  this  wholly  a  vain  hope.  For  the 
regent,  courting  popularity,  and  elated  by  easy 
victory  —  the  Due  du  Maine,  whether  from  timid- 
ity or  indifference,  having  opposed  no  obstacle  to 
it  —  at  once  restored  to  the  Parliament  its  long- 
withdrawn  privilege  of  remonstrating  against  un- 
satisfactory edicts.  It  did  not  necessarily  follow 
that  the  remonstrances  would  be  heeded.  The 
duke,  indeed,  declared,  amidst  general  applause, 
that  he  would  not  consent  to  have  his  hands  tied 
when  it  was  a  question  of  doing  good,  but  would 
willingly  be  fettered  should  he  seem  inclined  to  do 
evil.      He,  however,  proceeded  with  undue  eager- 


FIRST  ACTS   OF   THE   REGENT  1 9 

ness  to  overthrow  the  Systeme  Louis  XIV.,  and  to 
make  many  ill-considered  changes  in  the  adminis- 
tration of  government.  Even  zealous  supporters 
of  his  claims,  appointed  to  new  posts  he  had  cre- 
ated, the  Marechal  de  Villars,  for  instance,  urged 
on  him  the  advisability  of  carrying  out  his  pro- 
jected reforms  with  less  haste  and  more  judgment. 

He  had  promised  —  it  was,  however,  notorious 
that  he  never  kept  his  promises  —  that  taxation 
should  be  diminished,  and  economy  be  the  order  of 
the  day  in  the  expenditure  of  the  court.  To  prac- 
tise or  enforce  economy  was  not  in  his  nature  or 
consistent  with  his  habits.  Yet  the  regent,  not- 
withstanding his  vicious  course  of  life,  had  in  his 
character  the  elements  of  several  good  qualities  — 
qualities  that  might  have  developed  into  virtues 
had  not  the  infamous  hands,  in  which  it  was  his 
misfortune  to  be  placed  in  his  youth,  done  their 
utmost  to  eradicate  all  that  gave  promise  of  good 
in  him.  There  was  frankness  and  bonhomie  in  his 
manner,  and  leniency  in  his  disposition.  It  was 
readily  believed,  too,  that  a  sense  of  justice,  no 
less  than  feelings  of  humanity,  prompted  his  first 
act  of  authority  —  an  order  to  throw  open  the 
doors  of  the  Bastille  and  set  the  oppressed  free. 

This  was  a  step  that  secured  for  the  regent 
immense  popularity.  It  was  a  real  blessing,  too, 
to  many  sorrowing  families,  and  to  many  guiltless 
victims  of  despotic  caprice,  who  were  languishing 
away  life,  sick  at  heart,  and  longing  for  deliverance 


20  THE    OLD   REGIME 

that  came  not.  To  one  of  these  unfortunates,  the 
unexpected  message,  "you  are  free,"  proved  a 
message  of  death.  Hope  in  that  drooping  heart 
had  given  place  to  despair,  and,  under  the  power- 
ful reaction  of  the  startling  announcement,  the 
thread  of  life  suddenly  snapped.  Another,  who 
had  spent  thirty-five  years  in  the  Bastille,  heard  of 
freedom  with  fear  and  trembling.  The  outside 
world  had  lost  its  interest  for  him.  Friends,  rela- 
tives, home  —  all  were  no  more.  He  therefore 
humbly  prayed  to  be  allowed,  as  a  favour,  to  spend 
his  remaining  days  within  the  walls  of  that  prison 
in  which  he  had  been  condemned  to  waste  away 
the  vigorous  years  of  manhood,  but  now,  in  friend- 
less old  age,  he  clung  to  as  a  refuge. 

Golden  opinions  rewarded  the  regent.  The 
people  looked  hopefully  forward  to  the  speedy 
sweeping  away  of  the  many  abuses  that  had  sprung 
up  during  the  long  despotism  of  Louis  XIV.  They 
imagined  that  past  excesses,  the  scandal  of  his 
former  life,  and  the  parade  he  had  hitherto  made 
of  vice,  were  to  be  redeemed  by  the  future  em- 
ployment, for  the  good  of  the  nation  and  the  wel- 
fare of  the  king,  of  the  excellent  abilities  the  Due 
d' Orleans  really  possessed. 

On  the  1 2th  of  September  the  youthful  Louis 
XV.  was  brought  from  Vincennes  to  Paris,  for 
the  formality  of  giving  his  viva  voce  assent,  before 
the  assembled  Grand1  chambrc,  to  the  acts  clone 
in  his  name  by  the  regent.     Vast  was  the  throng 


THE    YOUNG   KING  21 

that  greeted  the  first  public  appearance  of  this 
one  remaining  blossom  of  royalty.  He  was  at- 
tended by  those  serious  and  elderly  grandees  of 
the  vieille  coin;  appointed  to  their  several  posts 
by  the  late  king,  and  who  could  not  be  super- 
seded by  the  regent  without  giving  colour  to  sus- 
picions, still  current  in  some  quarters,  of  his 
designs  on  the  young  king's  life.  On  the  arrival 
of  Louis  XV.  and  his  suite,  the  Due  de  Fresme, 
Grand  Chamberlain,  took  the  child  in  his  arms, 
carried  him  to  the  throne,  and  placed  him  there 
on  a  cushion.  At  the  foot  of  the  throne  sat  the 
Duchesse  de  Ventadour,  la  grandc  gouvernante, 
stiff  and  formal,  and  arrayed  in  heavy  mourning 
robes  of  black  and  violet  velvet,  and  a  long  veil  of 
black  crape.  The  duchess  represented  on  this 
occasion  a  queen-mother.  Before  taking  her  seat, 
she  announced  to  the  assembled  Parliament  that 
the  chancellor  would  inform  them  of  the  will  and 
intention  of  his  majesty.  His  little  majesty's 
mourning  garb  was  of  violet  cloth ;  a  full  plaited 
tunic,  and  jacket  with  hanging  sleeves,  lined  with 
black  satin  and  edged  with  gold  fringe.  His 
auburn  hair  floated  over  his  shoulders  in  natural 
curls.  A  little  violet  crape  cap,  with  a  lining  of 
gold  tissue,  covered  his  head,  and  on  his  neck, 
suspended  by  a  blue  riband,  were  the  crosses  of 
the  Orders  of  Saint  Louis  and  of  the  Saint  Esprit 
—  decorations  he  seemed  greatly  to  admire,  and 
to   be  very  proud  of.      His  leading  strings  were 


22  THE    OLD   REGIME 

crossed  back  over  his  chest  and  shoulders.  They 
were  of  gold  cloth,  with  small  pearls  worked  in, 
and  were  worn  to  indicate  the  childhood  of  the 
Ruler  of  France,  rather  than  for  use.  For  he  was 
five  years  of  age,  and  although  very  delicate,  and 
reared  hitherto  only  by  extraordinary  care  and  at- 
tention, "  il  courait"  as  was  observed,  "  comme  un 
Basque!'  He  was  perfectly  well  formed,  too, 
though,  as  a  print  of  the  time  shows,  he  had  been 
bandaged  and  strapped  up,  as  poor  infants  in  those 
days  were  wont  to  be,  and  to  which  the  prevalence 
of  deformity  and  stunted  growth  were  in  a  great 
degree  due.  Louis  XV.  was  a  beautiful  child. 
His  deep  blue  eyes  had  a  rather  melancholy,  ap- 
pealing expression,  and  an  earnestness  in  their 
gaze,  which  inspired  an  interest  in  him. 

On  the  occasion  of  this  first  lit-dc-justice  held 
in  his  name,  the  child-king,  reclining  on  his  cush- 
ions, observed  with  amazement  all  that  took  place. 
With  a  profoundly  attentive,  but  somewhat  puz- 
zled air,  he  listened  to  the  speeches  and  harangues 
that  were  addressed  to  him,  and  the  oaths  of 
fidelity  that  followed.  He  was  beginning  to  show 
signs  of  weariness  and  impatience,  when  the  dig- 
nitaries of  the  Church  then  present  greatly  at- 
tracted his  notice  :  perhaps  because  of  their  mag- 
nificent vestments,  point-lace,  gold  crosses,  and 
robes  of  scarlet  and  violet  ;  but  the  especial  fas- 
cination was  the  red  hat  of  the  Archbishop  of 
Paris,  Cardinal  de  Noailles. 


THE   KING'S  FIRST  TUBLIC   SPEECH         2$ 

The  Marechal  Due  de  Villeroi  —  he  who  so 
signally  failed  when  commanding  the  armies  of 
France  to  evince  any  of  the  qualities  of  a  great 
general  —  was  one  of  the  most  finished  and  stately 
of  the  circle  of  courtiers  who  had  surrounded 
Louis  XIV.  He  now  held  the  office  of  governor 
to  the  young  king,  and  in  that  capacity  stood  by 
his  side  near  the  throne.  Shocked  at  the  per- 
sistency with  which  his  royal  charge  continued, 
with  a  long,  fixed  stare,  to  regard  the  cardinal 
archbishop,  he  endeavoured  to  divert  his  attention 
from  him.  But  all  in  vain.  He  heeded  not  his 
governor's  whispered  reproofs,  his  admonitory 
shakings  of  the  head,  the  great  eyes  he  made,  and 
other  deprecatory  signs  of  amazement.  Meeting 
at  last  the  marechal's  angry  glances,  the  child 
replied  to  them  by  bursting  into  tears,  stretching 
out  his  arms  to  his  gouvcrnatitc,  and  calling  out 
lustily  to  the  marechal,  "  Laissez  moi  faire ;  laissez 
moi,  done!" — "Leave  me  alone;  I  will  do  as  I 
like."  So  that  the  first  public  utterance  of  this 
baby-king  embodied,  as  was  then  remarked,  the 
fundamental  law  and  the  principal  maxim  of  abso- 
lute hereditary  monarchy. 

This  little  outburst  of  temper  and  feeling 
brought  the  business  of  the  lit-de-justice  speedily 
to  a  close.  The  royal  assent  was  supposed  to  be 
given  to  the  proceedings  of  the  stance ;  for  no 
coaxings  could  prevail  on  his  majesty  to  utter,  as 
entreated,  the   simple  word  "Out."     He  had  ex- 


24  THE    OLD   REGIME 

pendecl  his  energy  in  asserting  his  right  to  stare 
at  his  archbishop  as  earnestly  and  as  long  as  he 
pleased.  It  was  now  his  good  pleasure  to  show  his 
firmness  by  silence.  So  the  assembly  submitted 
to  accept  silence  for  assent,  and  at  once  broke  up. 

The  health  of  the  hope  of  the  nation  must  not 
be  risked  by  needlessly  fretting  him.  It  was, 
indeed,  almost  too  jealously  watched  over,  and  the 
child  shielded  with  unslumbering  care  from  the 
possible  approach  of  harm  by  the  Marechal  de 
Villeroi. 

Between  him  and  the  regent  the  strongest 
antipathy  existed  ;  and  the  latter  was  glad  to  seize 
the  opportunity  of  commenting  very  openly  on  the 
duke's  injudicious  severity,  as  he  termed  it,  in 
publicly  reprimanding  his  youthful  charge  for  a 
childlike  and  inoffensive  act.  Three  years  had 
scarcely  elapsed  since  the  regent  had  been  hooted 
through  the  streets,  mud  and  stones  thrown  into 
his  carriage,  and  an  attempt  made  to  force  an 
entrance  into  the  Palais  Royal.  The  nation  at 
large  execrated  him  as  the  suspected  poisoner  of 
the  young  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Burgundy  and 
their  son.  Now  he  was  overwhelmed  with  the 
applause  of  the  Gram?  chambre,  and  returned  to 
the  Palais  Royal  amidst  the  acclamations  of  an 
enthusiastic  people,  who  hailed  him  as  their  liber- 
ator, and  the  expected  restorer  of  peace  and  pros- 
perity to  France. 


CHAPTER    III. 

The  Regency.  —  Its  Libertinage. — The  Regent's  Roues.  —  Seek- 
ing Interviews  with  Satan.  —  Madame  Lucifer.  —  Madame, 
the  Regent's  Mother.  —  Audacity  of  Voltaire.  —  Character 
of  the  Regent.  —  "  Un  Fanfaron  de  Vices."  —  Yet  Generally 
Popular.  —  The  Regent's  Gallantry. 

HE  Regency  has  been  called  "La  Fronde 
des  moeurs  legcrcs."  The  epithet  is  eu- 
phonious. It,  however,  but  inadequately 
describes  that  state  of  moral  corruption  which, 
from  its  centre  —  the  depraved  court  of  the  re- 
gent—  spread  to  the  social  circles  of  the  haute 
noblesse,  infected  the  society  of  the  upper  bour- 
geoisie, and  exercised  a  baneful  influence  on  the 
French  people  generally.  Scarcely  was  France 
freed  from  the  severe  restraint  which  the  despotic 
will  of  a  single  man  had  so  long  imposed  on  her, 
than  the  reaction  began.  The  regent,  roused  to 
unusual  activity  by  the  unjust  partiality  displayed 
in  the  late  king's  will,  momentarily  renounced  his 
dissolute  pleasures.  But  no  sooner  were  the  reins 
of  government  securely  in  his  hands,  than  he  gave 
the  signal,  as  he  had  before  set  the  example,  and, 
nothing  loth,  it  would  seem,  both  grands  seigneurs 
and  grandes  dames  —  more  eager  for  licence  than 

25 


26  THE    OLD   REGIME 

the  nation  for  liberty  —  plunged  with  him  into 
every  excess.  Hypocrisy  threw  off  its  mask,  and 
libertinism  exhibited  itself  with  open  effrontery. 

The  ladies  of  the  court,  the  elderly  no  less 
than  the  young,  were  weary  of  the  domination 
of  Madame  de  Maintenon,  and  had  looked  to  be 
relieved  from  it  with  her  retreat  to  St.  Cyr.  The 
continuance  of  her  mystic  influence,  and  of  the 
"Systeme  Antiquaille  "  of  Louis  XIV.  —  as  the 
new  generation  termed  it  —  under  the  Due  du 
Maine,  had,  therefore,  been  regarded  as  an  intoler- 
able infliction ;  even  by  those  courtiers  who  were 
not  of  the  partizans  of  the  Due  d' Orleans.  Many 
thus  became  supporters  of  his  claims  who  socially 
were  alienated  from  him  ;  owing  to  that  singular 
perversion,  both  of  mind  and  judgment,  which  led 
him  to  glory  in  the  reputation  he  had  acquired  for 
frightful  depravity  and  crime.  He  encouraged, 
and  even  set  afloat,  the  most  exaggerated  reports 
of  his  deplorable  excesses,  and  of  the  unblushing 
vice  that  prevailed  at  his  private  reunions  at  the 
Palais  Royal  ;  thus,  as  Fenelon  remarked,  when 
suspicion  fixed  on  the  duke  as  the  poisoner  of  the 
dauphin,  "  making  credible  that  which,  from  its 
vileness,  it  was  most  difficult  to  give  credit  to." 

Something  of  that  spirit  which  animated  the 
youthful  froftdeurs,  when  in  the  moats  of  old  Paris 
they  attacked  their  less  reckless  companions,  prob- 
ably influenced  the  Due  d' Orleans  so  openly  to 
resort  to  vicious  courses.      By  his  avowed  libcrtin- 


THE  REGENTS  ROUES  2J 

age  (meaning  then,  disregard  of  religious  observ- 
ances) and  want  of  respect  for  propriety  of  con- 
duct, he  evinced  his  contempt  for  the  hypocritical 
austerity  and  sham  devotion  which  veiled  the 
backslidings  of  the  pious  court  of  Marly  and  Ver- 
sailles. A  servile  throng  of  courtiers  attended 
Louis  XIV.,  adapting  their  manners  to  his  chang- 
ing moods.  Their  faces  were  often  lugubrious, 
and  their  usual  dresses  "sad-coloured;"  for,  as 
the  fit  of  penitence  was  often  very  strong,  it  be- 
came necessary  to  modify  the  brilliancy  of  their 
garments,  to  substitute  rich  embroidery  for  gold 
and  silver,  but  never  to  appear  in  black.  The 
Due  d'Orleans  had  also  his  courtiers  ;  the  sharers 
of  his  pleasures  —  his  dissipated  band  of  "roue's." 
More  than  one  explanation  has  been  given  of  this 
flattering  sobriquet.  Generally,  he  is  said  to  have 
so  named  them  from  their  having,  one  and  all, 
earned  the  unenviable  distinction  of  meriting  the 
rack  or  wheel  —  a  punishment  to  which  offenders 
of  a  lower  social  rank  would  have  been  condemned 
for  the  many  infamous  acts  of  their  dissolute 
career.  On  the  other  hand,  it  has  been  asserted, 
on  behalf  of  this  noble  fraternity,  that  the  appella- 
tion signified  rather  a  band  of  congenial  spirits, 
who  would  not  shrink  from  the  torture  of  the 
rack,  should  such  a  test  of  their  devotion  to  their 
chief  ever  be  required  of  them.  It  is,  however, 
unlikely  that  the  duke  credited  the  companions 
he    had    christened    his    "roues"    with    any   such 


28  THE    OLD   REGIME 

feeling,  as  he  professed  to  doubt  —  or,  rather,  he 
denied  —  the  existence  of  disinterestedness,  even 
in  the  most  honourable  of  men. 

In  his  youth  he  possessed  courage  and  activity, 
and  was  believed  to  have  exhibited  other  soldier- 
like qualities ;  but  the  selfishness  and  jealousy  of 
Louis  XIV.  denied  him,  as  in  other  instances  in 
his  family,  the  opportunity  of  distinguishing'  him- 
self. He  took  to  the  study  of  chemistry,  and 
obtained  by  it  the  reputation  of  a  poisoner,  and  a 
seeker  after  the  philosopher's  stone.  He  pos- 
sessed some  skill  in  painting  and  music,  and  in 
the  mechanical  arts.  "Plus  que  des  demi-connais- 
sances"  says  Duclos.  He  had  also  turned  his 
attention  to  astronomy,  with  which,  as  at  that 
period  was  not  uncommon,  astrology  was  com- 
bined. This,  it  was  believed,  was  to  hold  com- 
munion with  the  powers  of  darkness ;  to  seek 
interviews  with  Satan,  as  some  of  the  wild  young 
rakes  of  that  day  actually  did  —  de  Richelieu 
being  one  of  them.  But  their  request  to  his 
Satanic  majesty  to  appear  was  unheeded,  and 
some  unexpected  noises  occurring  near  the  spot 
where  their  incantations  were  performed,  these 
bold  spirits  tottered  away  in  a  dreadful  fright,  one 
or  two  swooning  with  terror. 

To  return  to  the  young  Due  d'Orleans-- then 
de  Chartres  —  his  latest  tutor  was  the  Abbe 
Dubois,  a  dissolute  priest,  but  a  man  of  some 
ability,   who,  while   tutoring  him  in  vice,  gained 


MADAME   LUCIFER  29 

considerable  influence  over  him.  Louis  XIV.  did 
not  disdain  to  employ  the  abbe  to  overcome  his 
pupil's  repugnance  to  the  marriage  he  had  ar- 
ranged for  him  with  Mdlle.  de  Blois,  one  of  his 
illegitimate  daughters.  This  marriage  was  looked 
upon  with  extreme  disfavour  also  by  Madame,  the 
Princess  Charlotte  de  Baviere,  mother  of  the  duke. 
Like  the  princes  of  the  House  of  Conde,  when 
from  time  to  time  one  of  the  many  spurious  off- 
shoots of  royalty  was  thrust  upon  them  by  the 
king,  she  regarded  the  union  as  a  mesalliance  and 
a  dishonour.  It,  however,  took  place.  The  bride 
considered  that  she  had  conferred  a  great  honour 
on  the  Orleans  family  by  condescending  to  marry 
the  Due  de  Chartres.  She  was  so  haughty  that 
he  was  accustomed  to  call  her  Madame  Lucifer. 
At  times  he  compared  her  to  Minerva,  who,  while 
acknowledging  no  mother,  gloried  in  being  the 
daughter  of  Jupiter.  Soon  after  the  marriage, 
Monsieur,  the  duke's  father  —  in  whose  steps  the 
son  had  diligently  walked  —  was  carried  off  by 
apoplexy,  subsequently  to  an  interview  with  the 
august  Louis,  at  which  some  very  warm  words 
had  passed  between  the  brothers.  De  Chartres 
then  became  Due  d' Orleans.  His  duchess,  who, 
at  first,  complained  greatly  of  her  husband's  dis- 
sipation, soon  fell  into  similar  habits.  While 
Madame,  who,  though  a  little  eccentric,  was  re- 
markably shrewd  and  witty,  held  aloof  from  the 
court,  she  yet  kept  a  vigilant  eye  open  on  all  that 


30  THE    OLD   REGIME 

was  passing.  In  her  numerous  letters  to  her 
German  friends  and  relatives,  she  narrated  all  the 
follies  and  scandals  of  the  day,  and  chronicled 
them  for  posterity  in  her  Memoires,  with  the  same 
piquancy  and  unsparing  causticity ;  few  of  the 
celebrities  of  the  period  escaping  her  lash. 

Madame,  naturally,  was  much  attached  to  her 
son,  though  she  was  aware  of  his  vices,  and  greatly 
lamented  them.  She  accounted  for  them  rather 
fantastically.  At  his  birth,  she  said,  numberless 
good  genii  assembled  and  endowed  him  with  the 
germ  of  every  virtue.  One  of  the  number,  how- 
ever, who  arrived  late,  being  annoyed  that  nothing 
was  left  for  her  to  bestow,  maliciously  decreed 
that  he  should  want  the  power  of  making  use  of 
the  gifts  which  the  early  arrivals  had  lavished  upon 
him.  "  Et  mon  fils  est  rcste  sous  le  charme  de  la 
mediant c fee"  said  the  princess;  "il  a  en  lui  le 
germe  de  toutes  les  vertus,  mat's  il  ne  pent  en  /aire 
usage."  Her  head  was  full  of  fairy  tales  and  old 
German  legends.  She  was,  however,  far  too  clever 
and  keen-sighted  to  put  faith  in  them,  or  to  be 
blind  to  the  results  of  evil  example  and  corrupt 
training,  of  which  the  regent  was  so  striking  and 
lamentable  an  instance. 

Yet  it  was,  in  some  sort,  true  that  the  regent 
had  not  the  power  of  making  use  of  the  good  quali- 
ties with  which  many  of  his  contemporaries  believed 
him  endowed.  Voltaire  speaks  of  him  as  "  cclebrc 
par  le  courage,  par  I'  esprit  et  les  plaisirs,"  as   a 


AUDACITY  OF   VOLTAIRE  3  I 

man  born  to  shine  in  society  even  more  than  to 
conduct  affairs  of  state  ;  one  of  the  most  amiable 
men  that  ever  existed. 

Voltaire,  in  1 7 1 8,  had  received  a  striking  proof 
of  the  regent's  amiability,  according  to  the  notions 
of  those  days  of  lettres-de-cacJict .  He  had  just 
been  released  from  the  Bastille,  where,  for  a  cut- 
ting satire  on  the  regent  and  his  government, 
falsely  attributed  to  him,  he  had  spent  the  last 
twelve  months.  The  error  being  discovered,  Vol- 
taire was  liberated.  While  waiting  in  the  ante- 
chamber to  be  introduced  to  the  regent,  who  pro- 
posed to  make  him  pecuniary  compensation  for  his 
detention,  a  violent  storm  came  on  :  thunder,  light- 
ning, a  perfect  whirlwind.  To  the  dismay  of  a 
number  of  persons,  waiting  also  to  see  the  regent, 
Voltaire  suddenly  exclaimed,  looking  towards  the 
sky,  "  They  must  have  a  regency  up  there  to  pro- 
duce such  a  bad  state  of  things  as  this."  None 
dared  utter  a  word,  or  venture  to  smile  at  so 
astounding  a  piece  of  audacity.  The  speech  was 
immediately  made  known  to  the  regent.  Voltaire, 
being  introduced,  "  This  is  M.  Voltaire  who  is  now 
leaving  the  Bastille  ?  "  inquired  the  duke.  "  Yes, 
Monseigneur,"  replied  the  chamberlain,  "unless  it 
be  your  good  pleasure  that  he  should  return  to  it." 
But  the  regent,  repeating  Voltaire's  words,  laughed 
heartily  at  them,  as  at  a  good  joke.  Voltaire,  we 
are  told,  thanked  him  for  the  good  cheer  he  had 
been  provided  with  during  his  sojourn  in  the  Bas- 


32  THE    OLD   REGIME 

tille;  adding,  however,  he  trusted  his  highness 
would  not  again  trouble  himself  to  provide  him 
with  a  lodging.  Sallies  of  that  kind  were  regarded 
with  less  leniency  in  the  Louis  XIV.  period. 

Duclos  mentions  the  duke's  "  brilliant  valour, 
and  his  modesty  when  referring  to  his  own  part 
in  any  action."  He  thinks  he  would  have  been  a 
great  general  had  not  his  advancement  been 
thwarted  by  the  narrow-minded  policy  of  the 
king,  "  il  fut  toujours  en  sujetion  a  la  cour"  he 
says,  "et  en  tut  die  a  Varme'e.  In  Saint -Simon's 
portrait  of  the  regent  (Saint  -  Simon,  often  so 
eloquently  vituperative,  colours  highly  at  all  times, 
whether  it  be  to  praise  or  to  blame,  yet  he  knew 
the  regent  intimately),  he  is  represented  as  gifted 
in  a  higher  degree  than  are  most  men,  with  per- 
sonal fascination  and  intellectual  qualities :  Doux, 
accueillant  ouvert,  d'un  accc's  facile  et  charmant ; 
voix  agreablc,  le  don  de  la  parole,  en  quelquc  genre 
que  cc  pent  etrc.  Eloquence  nature  lie ;  juste  sse, 
e'gale  sur  les  sciences  les  plus  abstraitcs,  qiiil  ren- 
dait  claircs,  sur  les  affaires  de  gouvemement,  de 
politique,  finances,  justice,  guerre,  cour,  convention 
ordinaire,  et  de  toutcs  sortes  d'art  et  de  jue'eauique." 
Notwithstanding  these  great  talents  and  varied 
acquirements,  he  yet  describes  him  as  being  op- 
pressed by  ennui ;  utterly  without  resource,  and 
finding  life  barely  endurable,  except  in  the  midst 
of  those  insane  pleasures  which  he  actually  ab- 
horred, but,  from  long  indulgence  in,  could  not,  or 


jpbilippe,  £>uc  ^©rleane,  IReoent 


IWUffP***^ 


CHARACTER    OF   THE   REGENT  33 

would  not  give  up.  Depravity  had  become  a 
mania,  whose  pernicious  influence  he  no  longer 
had  the  power  to  shake  off.  Yet,  beneath  the 
dark  colours  in  which  the  Due  d 'Orleans  so 
strangely  delighted  that  his  character  should  ap- 
pear, even  Louis  XIV.  readily  discerned  "  un 
fanfaron  de  vices  qu'il  ne  commct  f>as,"  and  his 
contemporaries  generally  have  endorsed  this  judg- 
ment. 

Such  was  the  regent,  Philippe  Due  d 'Orleans, 
to  whom  the  destinies  of  France  and  her  child- 
king  were  to  be  confided  for  the  next  eight  years. 
During  those  years,  in  spite  of  his  depravity,  and 
the  ruinous  financial  schemes  he  sanctioned,  the 
people  became  much  attached  to  the  man  whom 
they  had  once  followed  to  his  home  with  hootings 
and  maledictions.  "The  Parisians,"  says  Anque- 
til,  "adored  him.  He  was  so  affable,  so  cour- 
teous, so  desirous  of  obliging."  The  air  of  kind- 
ness and  interest,  with  which  he  listened  to 
appeals  that  were  made  to  him,  was  in  itself  a 
charm.  He  had  the  art  of  refusing  a  request 
without  giving  pain,  for  he  appeared  pained  him- 
self at  his  inability  to  comply  with  it.  There  was 
something  in  the  earnestness  yet  gentleness  of  his 
looks  that  was  especially  flattering.  The  people 
assembled  in  crowds  to  get  but  a  glimpse  of  him 
when  he  left  or  returned  to  his  palace,  and  flocked 
to  the  theatres  in  the  hope  of  seeing  him  there. 

He  was  no  less  successful  in  gaining  the  good 


34  THE    OLD   REGIME 

opinion  of  the  foreign  ministers.      For,  while  the 
charm  of  his  manners  had  its  usual  prepossessing 
effect,  the  justice  of  his  views,  his  keen  political 
insight,  his  ready  comprehension  and  clear  expla- 
nation of  the  most  intricate  questions  of  state,  the 
cautious  reserve  of  his  inquiries,  and  the  ease  and 
finesse  of  his  replies,  won  the  general  admiration 
of  the  diplomatists.     The    regent,  in    short,  had 
suddenly  achieved  popularity.     The  youth  of  the 
nation  were  with  him  ;  and  fair  dames  admired  him, 
for  he  was  courteous  and  gallant   to   the  young, 
deferential  in  his  attentions  to  the  elderly  —  even 
the    youthful    monarch    (a    melancholy    child,   an 
c unity e  from    his  infancy)  brightened  into   smiles 
and  became  animated  when  the  regent  visited  him. 
If  the  Due  d' Orleans  could  but  have  sustained 
this  character,  it  would  have  been  well  both  for 
himself  and  for  France.      But   strength  of   mind 
and  force  of  will  being  wanting,  he  too  often  fell 
back  to  his  accustomed  vicious  courses,  and  the 
qualities  that  might  have  made  him  the  regener- 
ator of  France,  served  but  to  give  attraction  to 
his  evil  example,  and  to  facilitate  the  moral  per- 
version of  all  who  came  within  its  influence. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

Un  Salon  tres  Respectable.  —  The  Hotel  Lambert.  —  La  Marquise 
de  Lambert.  — The  Palais  Mazarin.  —  Weekly  Literary  Din- 
ners.—  French  Cooks  of  the  Eighteenth  Century. —  The 
Wealthy  Financiers.  —  A  Party  of  Old  Friends.  —  La  Motte- 
Houdart.  —  Homer  and  Madame  Dacier.  —  The  Salon  Lam- 
bert.—  The  Bureau  d'Esprit.  —  The  Goddess  of  Sceaux. — 
The  Marquis  de  Saint  Aulaire. — The  Due  du  Maine.  —  A 
Desperate  Little  Woman.  —  Portrait  of  the  Duchess. — 
Genealogical  Researches.  —  Drowsy  Reading. 

iHE  traditions  of  the  once  famous  salon 
of  the  Marquise  de  Rambouillet  had 
well-nigh  died  out  towards  the  close  of 
the  seventeenth  century.  Gradually,  as  the  literary 
and  social  celebrities  of  that  period  disappeared 
from  the  stage  of  life,  the  salons  which  claimed  to 
represent  those  traditions  became  extinct,  and  no 
new  ones  were  opened  to  replace  them.  Those 
reunions  of  the  noble,  the  witty,  and  the  learned 
had  never  been  looked  on  with  favour  by  the  king, 
even  in  his  youth.  But  when  wintry  old  age  crept 
upon  him,  with  its  usual  selfish  distaste  for  other 
enjoyments  than  its  own,  he  regarded  with  a  sterner 
and  still  more  jealous  eye  whatever  appeared  to  be 
a  counter-attraction  to  the  formal  etiquette  and 
gloomy  piety  of  his  court.      He  would  have  had 

35 


36  THE    OLD  REGIME 

the  French  people  grow  old  and  devout  with  him  ; 
forgetting  that,  while  individuals  are  passing  away, 
a  nation  is  renewing  its  youth,  and  inventing  new 
pleasures  for  itself. 

There,  however,  still  existed  in  Paris  a  salon  of 
the  old  type;  yet  somewhat  modified  —  having 
yielded,  as  time  went  on,  to  the  influence  of 
changing  surroundings.  It  was  the  salon  of 
Madame  de  Lambert,  une  grandc  dame  of  the 
vieillc  conv,  refined  in  sentiment,  polished  in  man- 
ners. It  was  distinguished  as  "  ?tu  salon  Ires  re- 
spectable." In  other  words,  it  was  not  of  the  new 
school  of  mesurs  legercs,  inaugurated  with  the  re- 
gency, which  showed  little  respect  for  the  conven- 
ances hitherto  observed  in  polite  society.  Madame 
de  Lambert  was  the  authoress  of  several  works. 
They  were  written  chiefly  for  the  instruction  of 
her  son  and  daughter,  but  were  held  in  general 
esteem  in  their  day.  She  had  a  considerable  ac- 
quaintance with  Latin  and  Greek,  yet  was  quite 
free  from  pedantry  and  all  affectation  of  learning. 

So  long  back  as  1666,  Therese  de  Marguenat 
de  Courcelles  had  married,  at  the  age  of  nineteen, 
the  wealthy  Henri  de  Lambert,  Marquis  de  Saint- 
Bres.  The  Hotel  Lambert,  in  the  lie  St.  Louis, 
then  became  her  residence  :  that  splendid  hotel, 
renowned  for  its  elaborately  sculptured  decorations, 
its  finely  carved  chimney-pieces,  painted  panels, 
ceilings,  and  staircases.  They  were  the  work  of 
such  artists  as   Le   Sueur,   Le  Brun,  Van   Ostal, 


THE   HOTEL    LAMBERT  37 

Romanilla,  Du  Bassan,  and  other  painters  and 
sculptors  of  eminence.  The  beautiful  saloon, 
known  as  the  "  Salon  des  Muses,'"  and  the  smaller 
one,  the  "  Cabinet  df  Amours"  were  profusely 
adorned  with  works  of  art  and  exquisite  paint- 
ings.* In  the  costliness  of  its  furniture,  it  vied 
with  the  famous  Hotel  Lesdiguieres  ;  but  in  itself, 
as  an  artistic  chef-d'oeuvre,  far  surpassed  it. 

In  this  princely  abode,  the  most  distinguished 
of  the  beau  monde,  the  elite  of  the  literati,  the 
poets,  and  men  of  science,  both  native  and  for- 
eign, were  constantly  entertained  until  the  death 
of  the  Marquis  de  Lambert,  in  1686  —  that  year 
so  eventful  for  France ;  the  turning-point  in  the 
fortunes  of  the  great  Louis.  It  was  the  year  of 
the  "  Dragonnadcs ;"  the  beginning  of  the  reign 
of  Madame  de  Maintenon. 

After  a  short  interval  of  retirement  the  marquise 
reopened  her  salons,  and  continued  to  hold  her 
receptions  in  the  same  splended  hotel  until  17 10. 
She  had  made  her  debut  in  society  too  late  in  the 
century  to  have  known  the  celebrated  Madame  de 
Rambouillet.  But  she  was  familiar  with  the  far- 
famed  salon  bleu  —  having  visited  the  fair  Julie 
d'Angennes,  when,  as  Duchesse  de  Montausier, 
she  occasionally  received  her  circle  of  friends  in 

*  Subsequently  these  were  placed  in  the  Musee  du  Louvre. 
The  Hotel  Lambert  was  pillaged  in  the  revolutionary  times;  but 
later  on  was  restored  with  great  taste  and  a  considerable  outlay 
by  Prince  Adam  Czartoriski. 


$8  THE   OLD  REGIME 

the  salon  that  had  been  the  scene  of  her  own 
youthful  triumphs,  and  her  mother's  social  celeb- 
rity. Mdlle.  de  Scudery  and  Madame  de  Sevigne 
had  been  Madame  de  Lambert's  intimate  friends. 
She  had  known  also  Corneille,  Racine  and  Moliere, 
and  had  seen  Madame  Champmesle  and  the  famous 
Michel  Baron  represent  the  principal  characters  in 
their  dramas.  She  had  heard  Bossuet,  Bourdaloue, 
and  Flechier  denounce  the  vices  of  the  age,  and 
the  mceurs  Italiennes ;  and  speak  with  a  warning 
voice  even  to  the  Grand  Monarquc  himself.  In 
those  forty-four  years,  so  full  of  incident,  absolu- 
tism had  passed  from  the  height  of  power  to  the 
first  stage  of  its  decadence. 

Owing  to   family  arrangements,  the  marquise, 

A 

in  1 710,  left  the  He  St.  Louis,  and  took  on  a 
lease,  for  the  term  of  her  life,  part  of  the  Hotel 
Nevers  —  that  portion  of  the  vast  edifice,  the 
Palais  Mazarin,  now  " BibliotJieque  Nationale" 
which  the  Marquis  de  Mancini  had  inherited  from 
the  cardinal.  It  had  been  built  and  furnished,  as 
everybody  knows,  with  an  utter  disregard  to  cost  ; 
for  the  coffers  of  the  State  furnished  the  funds, 
under  the  name  of  "secretes  depcnscs."  Though 
still  superb,  sixty  years'  use  had  dimmed  much  of 
the  original  splendour  of  the  gold  brocades,  em- 
broidered satin  hangings,  etc.,  as  well  as  of  the 
decoration  of  the  apartments.  But  the  cardinal's 
successors  had  not  found  it  convenient  to  renew 
either    one   or  the   other.      Madame  de    Lambert 


THE  PALAIS  MAZARIN  39 

foresaw,  apparently,  that  her  lease  of  life  had  yet 
more  than  twenty-one  years  to  run.  For  she 
thought  it  worth  while  to  spend  several  thousand 
pounds  on  the  work  of  renovation,  and  to  build, 
from  the  Rue  Colbert,  a  separate  entrance  to  her 
own  part  of  the  palace. 

In  the  other  part  lived  the  Due  de  Nevers, 
grandnephew  of  the  cardinal.  He,  wavering  be- 
tween the  old  and  new  schools,  also  held  frequent 
receptions,  or,  to  be  quite  correct,  reunions,  that 
being  the  term  specially  applied  to  the  social 
gatherings  of  the  lordly  sex,  while  a  salon  denoted 
an  assembly  of  the  beau  mondc,  both  seigneurs  et 
dames,  and  that  a  lady  presided. 

The  extensive  alterations  and  embellishments 
—  the  latter  including  some  graceful  panel  paint- 
ings by  Watteau,  whose  talent  was  then  becoming 
known  —  being  completed,  and  the  marquise  in- 
stalled in  her  new  hotel,  she  issued  invitations  to 
a  select  number  of  the  gens  de  lettres  to  dine  with 
her  every  Thursday.  And  a  splendid  dinner  she 
gave  them.  For  her  maitre  d'hote!  and  chef-dc- 
cuisinc  were  of  the  elite  of  their  profession.  This 
weekly  literary  dinner  was  then  an  innovation  ; 
but  it  became  a  generally  adopted  custom,  dating 
from  about  the  time  of  the  death  of  Louis  XIV. 
Heavy  dinners,  such  as  that  great  monarch's 
astounding  appetite  enabled  him  to  consume  in 
the  middle  of  the  day,  went  out  of  fashion  ;  for 
with   ordinary  mortals,   but   to  look   on  those   in- 


40  THE   OLD  REGIME 

numerable,  piled-up  and  steaming-hot  dishes  suf- 
ficed to  take  appetite  away.  The  dinner  hour 
became  somewhat  later,  and  the  quantity  and 
solidity  of  the  food  less  regarded  than  perfection 
of  cookery.  In  the  regent's  gay  circle,  however, 
pctits  soupcrs  were  far  more  in  favour  than  grands 
diners. 

It  may  be  mentioned,  by  the  way,  that  the 
distinguished  professors  of  the  gastronomic  art, 
from  the  regency  to  within  a  few  years  of  the 
revolution,  were  remarkable  for  their  fertility  of 
imagination,  in  the  invention  of  new  and  delicate 
plats.  Great  skill  was  displayed  in  combining  the 
ingredients  to  ensure  pleasure  to  the  palate  ;  also, 
in  giving  to  their  savoury  creations  artistic  forms 
agreeable  to  the  cultured  eye.  Their  supremacy 
in  this  respect  is  attested  by  several  of  the  gas- 
tronomic tours  de  force  of  that  period,  which  have 
remained  unapproached,  and  confessedly  are  still 
unapproachable,  even  by  the  celebrated  artistes  of 
our  own  day.  The  post  of  clicf-de-cuisinc  was 
regarded  probably  at  the  period  in  question  as 
one  of  greater  distinction  (be  it  said  without  of- 
fence) than  at  the  present  time.  For  it  was  rare 
indeed  that  the  culinary  staff  was  headed  by  a 
chef  (even  of  small  pretensions,  if  any  such  there 
were),  except  in  the  royal  households  and  the 
hotels  of  the  haute  noblesse ;  where  the  professors 
of  gastronomy  were  necessarily  of  the  cordon  bleu 
order. 


THE    WEALTHY  FINANCIERS  4 1 

A  very  broad  line  had  hitherto  separated  the 
different  classes  of  the  community.  Until  the 
facile  manners  of  the  regent  emboldened  audacious 
spirits  (such  as  Voltaire,*  for  instance)  to  set  at 
naught  the  boundaries  that  hemmed  in  the  wealthy 
and  talented  who  were  not  of  the  court,  even  the 
financiers  (men  such  as  Samuel  Bernard),  the 
wealthiest,  and  in  some  sense,  therefore,  the  most 
influential  class  in  the  State,  had  scarcely  given 
an  instance  of  the  presumption  of  setting  up  a 
chef.  "They  enjoyed  their  wealth  at  that  time 
a  la  sourdine,"  as  somebody  has  said.  Banquets 
that  out-rivalled  those  of  princes  were  modestly 
entrusted  to  the  savoir  fairc  of  women  cooks. 
Among  these,  however,  were  a  few  well-trained 
adepts  perfectly  qualified  to  compete  for  the  palm 
of  excellence  with  the  most  skilful  of  the  culinary 
brotherhood. 

But  to  return  to  the  Palais  Cardinal.  To  the 
good  cheer  provided  for  the  guests  of  Madame 
de  Lambert  were  added  "the  feast  of  reason  and 
the    flow  of    soul"   provided  for  the   hostess   by 

*In  the  early  days  of  his  rising  reputation,  Voltaire,  who  had 
been  invited  to  dine  with  the  Prince  de  Conde,  exclaimed,  in 
reply  to  the  remark  of  a  guest  respecting  the  mixed  sort  of 
company  he  had  met  at  the  table  of  a  nobleman  on  the  previous 
day,  "  We  are  all  here,  either  princes  or  poets !  " — in  other  words, 
all  of  ecrnal  rank.  It  was  audacious.  But  the  remark  that 
drew  it  forth  may  have  been  levelled  at  the  young  bourgeois  poet, 
who,  conscious  of  the  royalty  of  his  genius,  probably  conducted 
himself  tin  pen  trop  sans  gene  to  please  his  illustrious  host. 


42  THE    OLD   REGIME 

the  guests  themselves.  It  was  by  no  means  a 
youthful  party.  There  were  the  Marquis  de  Saint- 
Aulaire,  then  seventy-five,  but  destined  to  com- 
plete his  century  (according  to  some  accounts,  he 
was  one  hundred  and  two  when  he  died)  ;  Fonten- 
elle,  who  attained  to  the  same  patriarchal  age. 
Madame  de  Lambert,  herself,  was  then  seventy; 
and  the  celebrated  Madame  Dacier  and  her  hus- 
band, with  the  Academician,  Louis  de  Sacy  —  con- 
stant guests  at  her  table — were  verging  also  on 
their  three  score  and  ten.  It  was,  in  fact,  a 
weekly  meeting  of  a  circle  of  old  friends,  who,  in 
a  green  old  age,  still  kept  alive  the  cherished 
memories  of  the  brilliant  society  of  their  youth. 

It  was  at  one  of  these  dinners  that  the  recon- 
ciliation took  place  between  Madame  Dacier  and 
the  poet-critic,  La  Motte-Houdart.  The  estrange- 
ment was  of  old  date,  and  the  incident  that  gave 
rise  to  it  is  probably  well  known.  Unacquainted 
with  Greek,  La  Motte  had  ventured  to  put  the 
"Iliad"  into  verse  from  a  French  prose  trans- 
lation ;  and,  further,  in  the  famous  dispute  on  the 
respective  merits  of  the  ancient  and  modern 
authors  had  declared  in  favour  of  the  latter. 
Worse  still,  his  disparaging  remarks  and  notes  on 
Homer  had  roused  the  ire  of  the  usually  gentle 
Madame  Dacier,  who  venerated  Homer  almost  as 
a  god.  The  presumption  of  La  Motte  amazed 
her,  and  she  characterized  his  criticisms  as  the 
result  of  "  ignorance  and  vanity,   and  a  want  of 


HOMER  AND   MADAME   DACIER  43 

common  sense."  This  condemnation  from  so 
high  an  authority  La  Motte  bore  with  more  meek- 
ness than  he  probably  would  have  done  had  it 
come  from  one  of  his  own  sex.  To  soothe  the 
outraged  feelings  of  the  learned  lady,  he  even  ad- 
dressed to  her  a  complimentary  ode  on  her  own 
great  attainments  in  classic  lore.  But  her  indig- 
nation was  not  so  easily  appeased  ;  and  the  breach 
between  them  was  rather  widened  than  otherwise. 
Madame  de  Lambert  was  a  great  admirer  of 
the  character  and  talents  of  Madam  Dacier,  whom 
she  regarded  as  an  honour  to  her  sex  —  "uniting," 
as  she  said,  "vast  erudition  and  the  highest  do- 
mestic virtues,  with  liveliness  and  wit  that  gave 
a  charm  to  the  social  circle."  She  was  no  less 
just  to  the  merits  of  La  Motte,  and  anxiously 
sought  an  occasion  to  reunite  the  friends  whose 
mutual  coldness  when  they  met  cast  a  chill  on  the 
gaiety  of  the  rest  of  the  party.  M.  de  Valincourt, 
also  an  Academician  and  habitue  of  her  hotel, 
chanced,  however,  one  day  at  dinner  to  make 
some  very  happy  quotation  from  Madame  Dacier's 
version  of  the  "Iliad."  La  Motte  was  present. 
Being  seated  near  Madame  de  Lambert,  he  re- 
quested permission  to  propose  to  her  guests  to 
drink  to  the  memory  of  the  great  Greek  poet,  and 
to  the  health  of  his  accomplished  and  learned 
translator.  His  proposal,  of  course,  met  with 
general  approval.  The  gentlemen  rose,  and  in 
foaming  bumpers  of  the  famous  vin  d'Ai  pledged 


44  THE    OLD   REGIME 

Homer  and  Madame  Dacier,  with  great  enthu- 
siasm. La  femme  savante  was  subdued.  And 
when  Madame  de  Lambert,  taking  La  Motte  by 
the  hand,  led  him  to  her  friend  that  he  might 
make  full  confession  of  his  errors  as  regarded  his 
remarks  on  the  "Iliad"  of  Homer,  she  graciously 
consented  to  pardon  him.  It  is  not,  however, 
recorded  that  Madame  Dacier  either  apologized 
for  the  offensive  epithets  she  had  applied  to  the 
critic,  or  that  she  withdrew  them.  Yet  the  recon- 
ciliation was  probably  sincere. 

Madame  Dacier  died  about  three  years  later  — 
1720.  La  Motte  wrote  her  elegy,  in  terms  ex- 
pressive of  high  admiration  for  the  character  and 
remarkable  talents  of  that  celebrated  woman. 

Beside  these  weekly  dinners,  the  marquise, 
every  Tuesday,  received  in  the  evening  a  general 
circle,  as  she  uninterruptedly  had  clone  for  so 
many  years  past.  Her  salon  was  one  of  the  very 
few  —  probably  the  only  one  —  where  no  gam- 
bling was  allowed.  But  conversation  was  to  be 
had,  "from  grave  to  gay" — lively,  but  rarely 
severe.  No  set  theme.  No  dreary  discussion,  as 
in  the  old  Rambouillet  clays,  on  the  retention  or 
abolition  of  this  or  that  word,  and  precise  deter- 
mination of  its  meaning  for  the  benefit  of  future 
generations.  The  forty  arm-chairs  had  now  the 
monopoly  of  those  subjects  which  once  interested 
so  greatly  les  belles  dames  of  the  salon  bleu.  The 
sentimental  love  topics  of  the  precieuse  school  had 


THE   SALON  LAMBERT  45 

also  had  their  day.  But,  unfortunately,  the  cour- 
tesy of  listening  to  what  others  had  to  say  was 
going  out  of  fashion.  The  charming  talent  for 
conversation,  when  the  piquant  remark  of  one 
speaker  inspired  the  witty  rejoinder  or  sparkling 
bon  mot  of  another,  and  on  which  a  preceding  gen- 
eration had  so  greatly  piqued  itself,  necessarily 
was  ebbing  away,  too.  Everybody  wished  to  be 
heard,  but  nobody  cared  to  listen.  It  was  then, 
in  fact,  that  French  women  began  to  evince 
symptoms  of  a  passion  or  mania  for  declaiming 
rather  than  conversing.  But  in  the  salon  Lam- 
bert manners  still  received  their  tone  from  the 
hostess ;  while  enough  of  general  politeness  yet 
remained  to  prevent  a  whole  assembly  from  talk- 
ing at  once,  or  one  of  the  number  from  out-talking 
all  the  rest.  It  was  a  mania  that  gradually  devel- 
oped itself  through  the  succeeding  years  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  until  it  culminated  at  the 
Revolution,  and  in  the  person  of  Madame  de  Stael 
and  her  political  harangues. 

A  modern  writer  has  said  that  the  pomposity 
and  pretensions  of  the  salon  Lambert  gave  rise  to 
the  epithet  "  bureau  a" esprit."  But  this  is  an  error. 
The  first  salon  so  designated  was  that  of  the 
Duchesse  d'Aiguillon,  the  niece  of  Cardinal  de 
Richelieu.  She  attempted  to  establish  a  salon  at 
the  Petit  Luxembourg  in  rivalry  of  that  of  the 
Hotel  de  Rambouillet.  But  although  the  great 
cardinal  very  rarely  was  present,  the  guests  felt 


46  THE   OLD  REGIME 

that  his  spirit  hovered  closely  around  them  in  the 
person  of  his  spies.  Formality  and  restraint  were 
the  result.  Social  enjoyment  was  banished.  The 
cardinal's  troupe  of  dramatists  and  needy  literary 
hangers-on,  of  course,  sedulously  frequented  the 
salon  of  the  duchess,  and  wrote  fulsome  verses  in 
honour  of  their  patron.  The  "  bureau  d' esprit" 
however,  soon  closed  its  doors,  and  the  epithet 
employed  to  distinguish  its  dull  reunions  from  the 
lively  assemblages  of  the  salon  bleu  was  revived 
in  the  term  " les galeries  cC  esprit"  for  the  preten- 
tious salon  of  the  Duchesse  du  Maine  at  Sceaux. 

At  this  time  (first  years  of  the  regency)  the 
duchess  was  more  particularly  devoted  to  political 
affairs  than  to  literature  ;  but  when  she  received 
at  her  little  court  of  Sceaux,  esprit  in  her  guests 
was  de  rigueur.  They  must  be  professed  beaux 
esprits,  and  prove  themselves  worthy  of  their  rep- 
utation by  spirituels  and  versified  compliments 
which,  as  soi-disant  adorers,  they  were  expected, 
from  time  to  time,  to  address  to  the  "  goddess  of 
Sceaux."  And  sufficiently  wearisome,  some  of 
the  most  distinguished  among  them  found  this  tax 
on  esprit.  The  difference  between  the  two  salons 
is  apparent  in  the  lines  of  one  of  the  worshippers, 
the  Marquis  de  Saint-Aulaire  : 

"  Je  suis  las  de  l'esprit,  il  me  met  en  courroux, 
II  me  renverse  la  cervelle ; 
Lambert,  je  vais  chercher  un  asile  chez  vous, 
Entre  La  Motte  et  Fontenelle." 


THE    GODDESS   OF  SCEAUX  47 

This  "  divinite"  as  Saint-Aulaire  elsewhere  po- 
etically speaks  of  the  Duchesse  du  Maine,  was 
well  spiced  with  diablerie.  She  was,  indeed,  a  won- 
derful little  woman.  That  pugnacity  of  spirit  and 
impatience  of  control  which  distinguished  the 
Great  Conde,  whose  granddaughter  she  was,  had 
descended  to  her.  Conde,  in  his  boyhood,  would 
smash  the  windows  and  destroy  everything  that 
lay  within  his  reach,  if  rain  or  other  caprices  of 
weather  occurred  to  upset  any  plans  of  recreation 
he  had  formed.  Happily  these  propensities  found 
vent  in  the  destruction  of  the  enemies  of  France, 
and  the  impetuousness  of  his  character  made  him 
a  hero,  and  the  commander  of  armies,  while  yet  a 
mere  youth. 

The  valour  of  the  duchess  was  less  signally 
rewarded.  She  commanded  her  husband,  and 
to  her  iron  rule  the  sluggishness  of  his  nature 
induced  ready  obedience.  But  when  it  became 
a  question  of  rousing  him  to  that  display  of 
energy  which,  it  was  believed,  would  secure  the 
influential  position  assigned  to  him  by  the  late 
king's  will,  the  goadings  of  the  duchess  were  pow- 
erless. The  translation  of  the  "Anti-Lucretius," 
by  which  the  duke  vainly  hoped  to  obtain  the  first 
vacant  fauteuil  in  the  Academy,  and  the  comple- 
tion of  his  collection  of  snuff-boxes  —  of  which  he 
already  had  nearly  two  thousand  rich  specimens  — 
were  spells  of  more  potency  than  the  storming 
of  the  valiant  little  duchess  was  able  to  overcome, 


48  THE    OLD   REGIME 

though  spurred  on  by  an  ambitious  desire  of  wield- 
ing the  sceptre  of  the  regency. 

However,  she  had  recently  availed  herself  of  an 
opportunity  of  giving  vent  to  her  outraged  feel- 
ings ;  her  prowess  being  exhibited  in  making  war 
on  the  mirrors,  furniture  and  ornamental  portions 
of  her  apartments  in  the  Tuileries.  M.  le  Due, 
who  was  a  nephew  of  the  duchess,  having  attained 
his  majority,  again  applied  for  the  superintendence 
of  the  king's  education.  The  regent  and  his  ad- 
viser, Dubois,  hated  Du  Maine,  and  were  glad  to 
cast  further  disgrace  upon  him.  The  little  king, 
then  seven  years  old,  was  therefore  made  to  repeat, 
at  a  lit-dc-justice,  that  it  was  his  royal  will  and 
pleasure  Du  Maine  should  be  superseded.  He  was 
then  ordered  to  resign,  and  appears  to  have  been 
glad  to  do  so. 

Far  otherwise  the  duchess.  When  informed 
that  the  apartment  in  the  palace  which  the  post 
gave  a  right  to  must  be  ceded  to  M.  le  Due,  her 
rage  was  boundless.  "Je  le  cedcrai"  she  at  last 
exclaimed,  "  oui,je  cedcrai  V  appartement."  Snatch- 
ing up  a  rich  porcelain  vase  that  stood  too  near  at 
hand,  she  dashed  it  into  the  wood  fire  then  blazing 
on  the  hearth.  With  the  fire-irons  she  attacked 
the  mirrors,  smashed  them  and  injured  the  frames. 
Finding  strength  in  her  fury,  she  destroyed  and 
damaged  a  large  portion  of  furniture,  dealing  about 
blows  with  so  much  force  and  rapidity,  that  the 
work  of  demolition  went  on  without  any  among 


A    DESPERATE   LITTLE    WOMAN  49 

the  awe-stricken  witnesses  of  it  venturing  to  stay 
her  hand.  At  length  she  succumbed  to  exhaus- 
tion, and  was  carried  away  by  her  attendants, 
leaving  for  the  occupation  of  her  successor  a  bat- 
tle-ground strewed  with  the  trophies  of  her  victory. 

This  desperate  little  woman  was  then  about 
thirty  years  of  age.  In  height  and  figure  Madame 
informs  us  she  had  the  appearance  of  a  child  of 
ten.  When  Louis  XIV.  desired  his  son  to  choose 
a  wife,  and  ordered  M.  le  Prince  to  give  him  one 
of  his  daughters,  Du  Maine  selected  the  Princess 
Anne-Louise,  because  she  was  the  fraction  of  an 
inch  taller,  or,  rather,  less  short,  than  her  elder 
sister.  She  was  not  exactly  a  little  fairy  thing, 
or  miniature  Venus.  The  not  unusual  deformity 
of  a  displaced  and  enlarged  shoulder  was  fatal  to 
the  symmetry  of  her  petite  personne.  Her  mouth 
was  large,  and  she  opened  it  widely,  displaying,  un- 
fortunately, a  very  bad  set  of  teeth.  But  she  had 
fine  eyes,  a  fair  complexion  and  light  hair.  She 
rouged  very  highly,  as  most  ladies  did.  "  Yet," 
adds  Madame,  "she  might  have  passed  muster 
had  she  not  been  d'une  mcchanccte  insupportable." 

This  malignant  little  sprite,  when  in  Paris,  was 
often  to  be  found  in  the  salon  Lambert,  on  Tues- 
days ; —  very  patronizing  to  the  women  who  were 
sufficiently  obsequious ;  very  gracious  to  the  men 
who  extolled  her  esprit  and  paid  court  to  her  as  a 
beauty.  This  was  especially  the  case  before  the 
death  of  Louis  XIV. 


5°  THE    OLD   REGIME 

The  little  duchess  was  then  looking  forward  to 
be  the  dispenser  of  court  favours.  As  a  quasi 
queen,  she  would  no  doubt  have  ruled  the  court, 
the  camp,  and  the  nation  generally  with  a  very 
high  hand.  But  not  only  were  these  flattering 
hopes  dispelled  —  still  further  ignominy  was  cast 
on  her  husband,  by  the  decree  depriving  him, 
though  conceded  to  his  brother,  of  the  rank  con- 
ferred upon  him  when  legitimated. 

The  duke  was  content  to  retire  into  private 
life;  but  declined  to  concur  in  the  decree,  and 
consent  to  his  own  degradation  in  order  to  ob- 
tain certain  promised  concessions.  He,  however, 
would  not  openly  resist  his  enemies.  He  is  said 
to  have  feared  the  confiscation  of  a  part  of  his 
immense  wealth  had  he  shown  himself  very  re- 
fractory. The  duchess  was  of  course  outrageous. 
"Nothing  then  is  left  to  me,"  she  said,  "but  the 
disgrace  of  having  condescended  to  marry  you." 
She  thought  as  much  of  her  rank  as  did  Saint- 
Simon  himself;  but  with  greater  excuse  for  it. 
Retiring  from  Paris,  she  made  diligent  examina- 
tion into  the  genealogies  of  all  the  bar-sinister 
offshoots  of  the  old  kings  of  France.  Musty 
volumes  and  parchments  lay  open  on  her  bed, 
and  were  scattered  pele-mele  about  her  chamber. 
So  fully  did  the  subject  take  possession  of  her 
mind,  that  she  could  turn  her  thoughts  to  no 
other.  Her  nights  were  sleepless,  and  Mdlle. 
Delaunay,  who  was  then  of  the  household  of  the 


DROWSY  READING  5  I 

duchess,  was  charged  with  the  pleasant  duty  of 
reading  her  vivacious  mistress  to  sleep.  But  she 
gave  little  heed  to  the  romances  and  stories  that 
had  been  selected  —  of  course,  for  their  somnifer- 
ous qualities.  In  the  very  midst  of  some  drowsy 
scene  that  ought  to  have  closed  her  eyelids,  she 
would  startle  her  reader  —  herself  nodding  over 
her  book  —  with  some  profound  remark;  showing 
that  she  still  was  perfectly  wide  awake,  but  had 
been  musing  only  on  the  rights  and  privileges 
accorded  to  some  brave  Dunois,  or  other  left- 
handed  Enfant  de  France.  We  will  leave  her 
for  the  present  to  her  genealogical  studies,  and 
to  the  treason,  stratagems  and  plots  she  is  medi- 
tating. 


CHAPTER   V. 

Royal  Academy  of  Music.  —  Opera,  Paniers  and  Masks. — "See 
Paris,  and  Die!  " — Watteau's  Early  Studies.  —  Costumes  a 
la  Watteau. —  Bals  de  l'Opera. —  La  Duchesse  de  Berri. — 
La  Duchesse,  en  Peine.  —  La  Duchesse,  en  Penitence.  —  Le 
Comte  de  Riom.  —  Mdme.  de  Maintenon's  Nieces. 

;E  French,"  said  Saint  Foix,  "are  a  sing- 
ing and  dancing  people."  Yet  for  near 
twenty  years  Louis  XIV.,  who  in  earlier 
days  so  delighted  in  displaying  his  agility  before 
admiring  crowds  of  spectators,  had  prevented  his 
people,  as  far  as  was  possible,  from  amusing  them- 
selves in  the  same  lively  way.  His  own  dancing 
days  were  over;  and  his  religion  was  less  jubilant 
than  that  of  King  David  of  Israel.  But,  "  autre s 
temps,  autrcs  moeurs!\ 

One  of  the  first  results  of  the  Orleans  rule  was 
the  revival  of  the  taste  for  theatrical  amusements. 
There  were  then  but  two  theatres  in  Paris  —  the 
Theatre  Francais  and  the  Royal  Academy  of 
Music.  Both  had  met,  at  least  for  some  years, 
with  but  very  languid  support,  and  seemed  in  a 
fair  way  of  having  permanently  to  close  their 
doors.  The  Academy  still  occupied  the  Salle  of 
the  Palais  Royal,  given  by  Louis  XIV.  to  Lulli, 

52 


OPERA,    PANIERS   AXD   MASKS  53 

on  the  death  of  Moliere.  Francine  was  now  its 
nominal  director,  though  the  management,  since 
1 7 12,  had  been  actually  carried  on  by  a  committee 
of  creditors.  The  privileges  originally  granted 
to  Lulli  were  continued  to  his  successor,  who  was 
his  son-in-law. 

But  the  palmy  days  of  court  favour  had  passed 
away.  The  receipts  of  the  Royal  Academy  fell 
off,  until  at  length  the  expenses  of  management 
exceeded  them  in  amount,  and  Francine  found 
himself  burdened  with  a  debt  of  upwards  of  thir- 
teen thousand  pounds.  Three  representations 
were  given  weekly,  and  the  Salle  was  always  well 
filled.  But  it  was  comparatively  small.  A  very 
large  proportion,  too,  of  the  space  in  the  parterre 
was  occupied  by  the  free  seats  of  members  of  the 
royal  household,  while  the  logcs  a  Vannee,  rented 
chiefly  by  the  financier  class,  were  remarkably 
spacious  for  the  small  number  of  persons  supposed 
to  have  chairs  in  them.  One  lady,  probably,  with 
her  enormous  paniers,  counted  for  three. 

The  city  still  took  its  tone  from  the  court,  and, 
the  court  becoming  yet  more  devout,  the  opera  of 
the  Academy,  under  the  committee,  continued  to 
be  a  losing  speculation.  When  ladies  connected 
with  the  court  perchance  went  to  the  theatre,  to 
save  appearances  and  avoid  probable  disfavour  if 
recognized,  they  always  wore  masks.  Unlet  boxes 
and  the  seats  at  the  disposal  of  the  management 
were,  as  often  as  not,  largely  occupied  by  friends 


54  THE    OLD   REGIME 

of  certain  singers  and  dancers,  whose  vanity  was 
flattered  by  boundless  applause,  but  not  a  sou  was 
contributed  towards  their  salaries.  The  Due 
d' Orleans  and  his  intimates  were  frequently  pres- 
ent ;  but  wherever  they  went  was  tabooed  ground 
to  the  courtiers  of  Versailles. 

Distinguished  foreigners,  and  English  travellers 
especially,  in  the  early  part  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, began  to  visit  Paris  more  frequently  than 
before,  and  of  course  they  went  to  the  Opera. 
The  fame  of  Paris  had  spread  far  and  wide  as  the 
"city  of  magnificence  and  pleasure."  But,  as 
often  happens  with  what  is  greatly  bepraised,  its 
reputation  was  much  beyond  its  deserts,  so  far  as 
concerned  its  outward  aspect.  The  utmost  that 
can  be  said  for  old  Paris,  in  that  respect,  is  that 
no  European  city  could  surpass  it  in  dirt  and  dis- 
comfort, and  in  the  squalid  appearance  of  its 
narrow,  dark,  dirty  streets.  Its  attractions  were 
all  within  doors.  The  formal  Englishman  was 
pleased  with  the  gaiety,  ease,  and  politeness  of  the 
French.  The  tastefully  furnished  apartments  must 
have  been  charming  to  eyes  accustomed  to  the  stiff, 
unrelenting  Calvinism  (if  such  an  application  of  the 
term  be  allowable)  of  the  rigidly  designed  William 
III.  and  Queen  Anne  furniture. 

"  See  Paris,  and  die  !  "  the  Parisians  were  accus- 
tomed to  say.     Die,  indeed!     What,  by  the  pesti 
lence,  or  by  the  dagger  of   the   assassin  —  which 
was  not  an  unfrequent  occurrence  ?     Better  go  to 


WATTE  ACTS  EARLY  STUDIES  55 

the  Opera,  and  live,  and  rejoice  at  what  you  have 
seen  there.  For  the  eye  was  always  gratified  by 
the  beauty  of  the  scenery  and  the  charmingly 
picturesque  costumes  of  the  danseurs  et  danseuses. 
All  the  world  did  not  admire  the  music  of  Lulli. 
But  every  one  was  delighted  with  the  productions 
of  the  fanciful  genius  of  Watteau.  It  was  he  who 
painted  the  scenery  and  designed  the  dresses.  In 
the  painting-room  of  the  Opera-house  —  as  an  un- 
tutored lad,  assistant  to  a  mediocre  scene-painter  — 
Watteau  learned  his  art.  It  was  there  he  perfected 
his  style,  after  a  short  absence  spent  in  the  atelier 
of  Mitayer,  painting  Madonnas,  Magdalens,  and 
saints  by  the  dozen  (then  greatly  in  request)  for 
three  francs  a  week,  with  a  daily  mess  of  potagc 
generously  thrown  into  the  bargain. 

Pauvre  Watteau  !  —  in  those  early  days  of  pov- 
erty and  suffering  were  sown  the  seeds  of  con- 
sumption that  carried  him  off  too  soon.  Just,  too, 
as  fortune  had  turned  so  smilingly  towards  him, 
and  his  "Venus  embarking  for  the  Isle  of  Cythere  " 
had  opened  for  him  the  door  of  the  Academy  of 
Painting;  just  when  his  pictures  and  panels  were 
eagerly  in  demand  ;  when  every  lady's  ambition 
was  to  secure  a  Watteau-painted  fan.  The  painter 
worked  day  and  night,  but  death  had  already  set 
his  seal  on  him  ;  and  after  seeking,  of  all  climates 
in  the  world,  relief  in  England,  Watteau,  in  1721, 
at  the  age  of  thirty-six,  breathed  his  last.  His 
natural  genius  was  never  directed  by  any  great 


$6  THE    OLD   REGIME 

master  of  his  art.  He  was  almost  self-taught. 
Connoisseurs  have  compared  him,  as  a  colourist, 
with  Paul  Veronese.  If  he  did  not  exactly  repro- 
duce nature  in  his  tableaux,  it  was  nature  with  a 
difference  that  was  at  least  very  charming.  His 
costumes  were  truly  costumes  a  la  Watteau.  They 
were  of  no  period,  no  class  ;  but  were  designed  in 
the  fairyland  of  the  artist's  fancy,  and  belonged 
exclusively  to  the  jolics  fillcs  and  jeunes  bergcres 
who  figured  in  the  ballets  and  operatic  fetes 
champetres. 

What  a  pity  that  all  the  beauty  of  scenic  effect, 
picturesque  dress,  and  perfection  in  the  arrange- 
ment of  the  operatic  stage,  should  have  been  half 
lost  to  the  audience  by  the  wretched  lighting  up 
of  tallow  candles.  When  Law,  the  financier,  was 
made  Conseiller  d'etat  by  the  regent,  he  gained 
further  popularity  with  the  pleasure-loving  public 
of  Paris,  during  his  brief  term  of  power,  by  substi- 
tuting wax  for  tallow  in  the  lighting  of  the  Salle 
de  1' Opera.  He  is  said  to  have  done  this  at  his 
own  expense ;  but  whether  or  not,  the  reform  con- 
tinued until  the  glaring,  smoky  oil-lamps  were 
introduced.  Some  changes  and  improvements 
were  made  at  the  same  time  in  the  arrangement 
of  the  boxes,  and  the  Royal  Academy  of  Music 
entered  upon  a  more  successful  career. 

It  was  then  that  the  bah  de  V  Opera  were  es- 
tablished. They  were  suggested  by  the  Prince 
d'Auvergne,    Comte   de    Bouillon,   and    the   privi- 


HALS  DE   V OPERA  57 

lege  of  holding  them  was  granted  to  the  Academy 
of  Music  by  the  regent's  let t res  patcntes.  These 
balls,  from  that  time  to  this,  have  maintained  an 
evil  reputation,  though  they  were  proposed  with 
a  view  of  counteracting  the  disorderly  scenes 
which  took  place  at  such  assemblies  when  held 
in  unauthorized  places.  At  the  opera  balls,  a  garde 
militaire  did  the  duty  of  police,  and  all  brawling 
and  outward  indecorum  were  to  be  checked  by  a 
rigid  surveillance.  But  the  regent,  himself;  the 
Due  de  Noailles,  Ministre  de  Finance ;  M.  de 
Rouille,  Conseiller  d'etat,  and  one  or  two  others 
holding  high  offices  in  the  government,  so  far 
forgot  what  they  owed  to  society  and  to  their  own 
position,  as  to  appear  at  these  balls  after  having 
indulged  too  freely  in  the  pleasures  of  the  table. 
At  the  opera,  the  ladies  no  longer  wore  masks, 
but  at  the  opera  balls  they  wore  both  mask  and 
domino,  which  sufficed,  charitably  or  otherwise,  to 
cover  a  multitude  of  sins.  Irregularity  of  conduct, 
therefore,  instead  of  receiving  a  check,  met  with 
encouragement  from  these  balls  under  distin- 
guished patronage.  Madame  de  Maintenon,  having 
heard  from  her  niece  of  the  dais  de  V Opera,  writes  : 
"J'ai  grand  pair  de  ces  bals,  quoi  qiion  me  disait 
q?ion  y  observe  beancoup  d'ordre.  Ce  n  est  pas 
a  ccux-la  que  le  regent  et  ses  presidents  dansent." 

The  Duchesse  de  Berri,  eldest  daughter  of  the 
regent,  was  a  constant  frequenter  of  the  Salle  de 
l'Opera.      She  was  in  mourning  for  her  husband 


58  THE    OLD   REGIME 

when  Louis  XIV.  died,  and  had  resolved  to 
shorten  by  one-half  the  usual  period  of  wearing 
it.  Having  done  so  as  regarded  the  duke,  she 
persuaded  the  regent  to  curtail,  in  the  same  pro- 
portion, the  mourning  for  the  king.  The  tearful 
time  of  black  and  violet  being  past,  the  duchess, 
whose  fancy  it  was  to  play  the  queen  during  the 
regency,  appointed  for  herself  four  ladies-in-wait- 
ing. In  one  of  the  grandest  of  the  royal  carriages, 
with  six  gaily  caparisoned  horses,  she  then  set  out, 
splendidly  dressed,  on  a  royal  progress  through 
the  good  city  of  Paris.  A  company  of  guards 
preceded  her,  followed  by  a  grand  fanfare  of 
trumpets  and  a  clashing  and  banging  of  cymbals. 
Great,  indeed,  was  the  sensation.  Heads  out  of 
every  window ;  women  and  children  trooping  out 
from  every  port 'c  cochhr  ;  and  every  one  inquiring 
of  his  neighbour  who  this  royal  lady  could  be. 
Those  who  did  not  recognize  Madame  de  Berri 
supposed  this  pretentious  personage  to  be  the 
Duchesse  de  Lorraine,  the  regent's  sister,  then 
in  Paris  with  her  husband  and  her  husband's  cJicrc 
amie,  to  do  homage  for  the  duke's  duchy  of  Bar. 

In  the  evening,  early  visitors  to  the  opera  were 
surprised  to  see  a  dais  with  canopy  of  crimson 
velvet  prepared.  Presently,  in  grand  state,  ar- 
rived the  Duchesse  de  Berri.  Having  taken  her 
seat,  four  of  the  ladies  and  four  gentlemen  of  her 
newly  appointed  household  grouped  themselves 
gracefully  around  her.     The  rest  of  her  suite  took 


LA    DUCHESSE,   EN  REINE  59 

up  their  position  in  the  pit,  while  her  guards  re- 
mained in  attendance.  The  regent  was  inclined 
to  laugh  at  and  to  tolerate  this  freak.  Not  so  the 
public.  Not  so  the  ladies  of  either  of  the  sections 
.  into  which  society  was  then  divided  —  the  trh 
respectable  of  the  vieille  cour;  the  pen  reputable 
of  la  nouvelle.  The  outcry  was  general.  Friends 
and  foes  alike,  even  the  loyal  band  of  roues,  pro- 
tested, and  the  regent  was  compelled  to  put  a 
stop  to  folly  that  threatened  very  serious  results. 

The  Duchesse  de  Berri  was  suspected,  unjustly 
perhaps,  of  having  poisoned  her  husband ;  but 
the  irregularities  of  her  conduct  had  alienated 
from  her  all  sympathy  and  respect.  Her  annoy- 
ance on  this  occasion  was  extreme.  For  consola- 
tion she  flew  to  the  convent  of  the  Carmelites, 
and  spent  a  day  or  two  there,  as  she  was  accus- 
tomed to  do  after  a  course  of  dissipation.  That 
short  season  of  retirement  and  prayer,  confession 
and  absolution,  cleared  the  conscience  and  gave 
tone  to  the  nerves.  Erring  ladies  left  the  com- 
fortable quarters  provided  for  them  in  that  rigid 
monastic  retreat,  again  to  plunge  into  the  whirl- 
pool of  pleasure,  with  the  certainty  of  shortly 
reappearing  at  the  convent  gates,  as  fair  penitents 
with  a  fresh  burden  of  sins  to  be  relieved  of. 

On  again  visiting  the  opera,  the  Duchesse  de 
Berri  went  incognita,  in  a  very  plain  carriage 
belonging  to  the  Comte  de  Riom,  and  occupied  a 
small   loge  grillee,   where   she   could   see  without 


6o  THE    OLD  REGIME 

being  seen.  She  had  privately  married  this  Comte 
de  Riom,  disregarding  the  fact  of  his  being  a 
Chevalier  de  Malte,  which  he  had  become  at  her 
instigation,  though  his  family  had  intended  him 
for  the  Church.  Singularly  enough,  he  was  grand- 
nephew  of  the  Due  de  Lauzun  —  still  living,  and 
approaching  his  ninetieth  year  —  who,  fifty  years 
before,  had  privately  married  another  Mdlle.  de 
Montpensier.  The  parallel  went  further.  For 
with  the  same  harshness  as  Lauzun  had  treated 
"la  grande  Mademoiselle,"  the  Comte  de  Riom 
now  behaved  towards  the  duchess.  In  the  Luxem- 
bourg Palace,  and  probably  in  the  same  splendid 
apartment  that  the  Due  de  Lauzun  had  once 
occupied,  now  dwelt  the  Comte  de  Riom ;  the 
duchess  being,  as  stated  by  Duclos,  "  tont-a-fait 
esclave  de  scs  caprices"  —  just  as  Mademoiselle 
had  been  infatuated  with  Lauzun.  Yet  the  count 
appears  to  have  been  a  less  attractive  person  than 
his  uncle.  "  II  eta  it  laid"  says  Duclos;  "visage 
bourgconne  ;  poll  avec  tout  le  monde ;  insolent 
envers  la princesse." 

What  with  extreme  jealousy  on  her  side,  extrav- 
agance and  free  living  on  his,  scenes  that  are  not 
pleasing  to  dwell  upon  often  occurred  between 
them.  In  the  correspondence  of  Madame  de  Cay- 
lus  with  Madame  de  Maintenon  during  her  last 
years  at  St.  Cyr,  the  duchess  is  often  alluded  to. 
Alluded  to  only.  They  probably  feared  to  write 
openly  ;  for  Madame  de  Caylus,  whose  pension  had 


MDME.   DE   MAINTEXOX'S  XIECES  6 1 

been  reduced  in  amount  —  like  all  those  granted 
by  the  late  king,  except  that  of  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon,  which  the  regent  paid  regularly  as  well  as 
in  full  -  -  had  an  apartment  in  the  Luxembourg, 
which  she  occupied  by  favour  of  the  Duchesse  de 
Berri.  One  seems  to  detect  in  the  letters  of 
Madame  de  Caylus  that  much  is  withheld  of  do- 
ings at  the  Luxembourg ;  probably  because  she 
has  had  a  larger  share  in  them  than  she  would 
perhaps  care  to  acknowledge. 

"I  hear,"  writes  Madame  de  Maintenon,  "that 
you  and  Madame  de  Noailles  (her  other  niece)  are 
giving  suppers  at  the  Luxembourg.  The  expense 
they  involve,  and  the  disorder,  I  am  told,  that  pre- 
vails at  them,  cause  me  extreme  pain.  The  new 
pensions  are  rarely  paid.  Distress  is  prevalent ; 
all  classes  are  suffering  from  it.  Yet  every  day 
we  hear  that  the  regent  has  made  some  new  gift 
to  his  mistresses,  or  confirmed  to  them  some  claim 
on  the  taxes.  Such  an  employment  of  the  public 
money  excites  many  murmurs  and  complaints. 

"  The  young  king,  they  tell  me,  is  very  obsti- 
nate ;  but  he  will  grow  out  of  that  as  he  grows 
older.  The  teachings  of  M.  de  Frejus  (Fleury) 
and  our  marechal  (Villeroi)  will,  I  trust,  supply  the 
remedy  for  it.  He  has  sent  me  his  portrait, 
painted,  or  rather  daubed  ('  barbouillf),  by  himself. 
The  marechal  has  promised  me  that  he  will  not 
take  him  again  to  see  Madame  de  Berri  at  the 
Luxembourg." 


CHAPTER   VI. 

Return  of  the  Italian  Troupe.  —  Les  Troupes  Foraines. — Vau- 
deville and  Opera  Comique.  —  Winter  and  Summer  Fairs. 
—  Theatre  de  la  Foire  Suppressed. 

,HE  Italian  comedians,  since  their  banish- 
ment from  Paris  in  1 699,  had  frequently 
solicited  permission  to  return.  But  the 
king  was  inexorable.  A  piece  called  "  La  Fausse 
Prude,"  containing  allusions  to  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon  and  the  sanctimonious  court  of  Versailles,  or 
which  the  audience  had  interpreted  as  such  and 
received  with  much  mirth,  had  given  him  great 
offence.  Denial  of  any  such  intention  availed  not. 
The  theatre  was  closed ;  the  Italians  were  driven 
from  the  hotel ;  the  lieutenant  of  police  locked  the 
doors,  put  the  keys  in  his  pocket ;  and  the  troupe 
received  orders  to  leave  the  country  immediately. 
Venturing  to  appeal  to  the  king  against  a  decree 
so  harsh  and  so  ruinous  to  them,  he  remarked  — 
"They  had  nothing  to  complain  of.  They  were 
able  to  return  to  Italy  in  their  carriages,  though 
when  invited  to  France  they  had  made  the  jour- 
ney on  foot." 

However,  in  171 8,  the  Italians  returned.     The 

62 


LES    TROUPES  EO RAINES  6$ 

Conseiller  d'etat,  Rouille,  persuaded  the  regent  to 
allow  them  to  take  up  their  old  quarters  in  the 
Hotel  de  Bourgogne,  and  to  assume  the  appella- 
tion of  "  Comediens  du  Regent."  Biancotelli  only, 
of  the  original  troupe,  came  with  them  ;  for  nine- 
teen years  had  elapsed  since  their  expulsion.  But 
the  new  troupe  soon  became  established  favourites. 
They  were  not  only  clever  actors,  but  able  to 
extend  their  popularity  (Italian  being  little  under- 
stood by  the  bourgeoisie)  by  giving  alternate  per- 
formances of  the  same  pieces  in  Italian  and 
French.*  The  Theatre  Italien,  thus  becoming- 
partly  French,  proved  a  formidable  rival  to  the 
Royal  Academy,  also  to  the  opera  comique. 

The  players  who  had  given  the  latter  title  to 
their  performances  were  called  troupes  fornixes, 
and  might  be  classed  as  a  company  of  strollers, 
having  no  recognized  local  habitation  but  the  tem- 
porary theatres  erected  on  a  portion  of  the  ground 
where  the  summer  and  winter  fairs  of  St.  Ger- 
main and  St.  Laurent  were  held.  A  desperate 
struggle  the  directors  had  had  for  some  years  to 
keep  the  troupe  together,  and  to  maintain  their 
footing  in  the  face  of  the  various  decrees  issued 
for  their   suppression.     That    they   succeeded    in 

*  Louis  Riccoboni,  the  author  of  four  successful  French  plays 
and  several  critical  and  historical  works  connected  with  theatri- 
cal subjects,  was  one  of  these  Italian  comedians.  Madame 
Riccoboni,  whose  romances  were  so  popular  about  the  middle  of 
the  century,  was  his  wife. 


64  THE    OLD  REGIME 

doing  so  at  all,  was  probably  owing,  as  Saint-Foix* 
says,  to  the  fact  that,  licentious  though  they  were, 
they  represented  the  esprit  and  vivacity  character- 
istic of  the  French,  as  no  other  troupe  did,  and 
were  largely  patronized  in  consequence.  But  the 
Theatre  Francais  had  obtained  a  decree  that  si- 
lenced their  eloquent  tongues,  and  permitted  them 
to  play  pantomime  only.  This  they  endeavoured, 
for  a  year  or  two,  partly  to  evade  by  the  comical 
device  of  unrolling  long  slips  of  paper,  on  which 
were  written,  as  sometimes  one  sees  in  caricatures, 
the  speeches  they  were  forbidden  to  speak,  and 
which  were  intended  to  make  clear  to  the  audi- 
ence what  looks  and  gestures,  however  eloquent, 
might  have  failed  to  convey. 

But  this  clumsy  method  of  giving  a  play,  after 
having  been  once  or  twice  laughed  at,  became 
wearisome,  both  to  actors  and  audience,  and 
eventually  was  given  up.  The  directors  of  the 
troupe  then  entered  into  an  arrangement  with  the 
Academy  of  Music,  which  had  the  power  of  sup- 
pressing musical  entertainments,  and  for  a  good 
round  sum  bought  the  privilege  of  playing  vaude- 
ville and  opera  comique  during  the  fairs  of  St. 
Germain  and  St.  Laurent.  The  new  entertain- 
ment provided  was  not  remarkably  refined.  But 
the  pieces  were  sparkling  and  witty ;  no  less 
attractive  to  the  court  of  the  regent  than  to  the 

*  "  Essais  Historiques." 


WINTER   AND   SUMMER    FAIRS  65 

throng  of  sellers  and  buyers  who  came  from  far 
and  near  to  these  fairs,  for  business  or  pleasure. 
A  thriving  trade  they  carried  on  there.  The 
good  housewives  supplied  themselves  with  linens 
and  woollens,  and  other  useful  goods,  and  the 
itinerant  merchants  took  away  "  articles  de  Paris  " 
for  the  provinces.  Everything  was  sold  but  fire-' 
arms  and  books  ;  but  veracious  lives  of  saints,  and 
accounts  of  well-attested  miracles,  were  excepted 
from  the  prohibition  laid  on  the  latter.  The 
ground  on  which  the  booths  stood  belonged  to  the 
neighbouring  monasteries,  and  was  leased  out  by 
the  monks  in  small  plots.  An  open  shop,  with  a 
small  room  over  it,  was  built  on  each,  and  dis- 
posed in  long  lines  under  Jiallcs ;  the  wood-work 
of  which  at  the  St.  Germain  fair  was  much  ad- 
mired for  its  tasteful,  if  somewhat  rudely  executed, 
sculpture.  At  the  St.  Laurent,  or  summer  fair, 
an  avenue  of  chestnut  trees  formed  a  shady 
promenade,  and  the  shops  were  erected  on  either 
side  of  it. 

The  theatres  occupied  a  large  space  of  ground. 
They  were  not  of  the  travelling  caravan  type  of 
the  Old  English  Richardson  days ;  but  were 
built  up  to  be  fixtures  on  the  ground  as  long  as 
the  fairs  lasted.  And  as  an  extension  of  time 
was  frequently  asked,  and,  bringing  good  profits 
to  the  monks,  as  frequently  granted,  the  two  fairs, 
from  being  originally  held  on  the  fete  days  only 
of    St.    Germain    and    St.    Laurent,    now    divided 


66  THE    OLD  REGIME 

between  them  the  greater  part  of  the  year.  The 
shopkeepers  gradually  left  to  attend  other  fairs  ; 
but  the  opera  comique  was  by  no  means  in  a  hurry 
to  bring  its  season  to  a  close.  Le  Sage,  the 
author  of  "  Gil  Bias  ; "  Dorneval ;  Fuzelier  ;  and 
the  witty  and  dissolute  Piron,  wrote  the  vaude- 
villes and  chansons,  which,  with  the  lively  music 
and  dancing,  so  pleased  the  Parisians  that  the 
audience  soon  became  too  large  for  the  theatre. 
The  directors,  therefore,  proposed  to  erect  one  on 
a  larger  scale. 

The  Theatre  Fran^ais,  however,  had  experi- 
enced a  great  falling  off  in  its  receipts.  The 
actors  were  also  not  a  little  indignant  at  the  pref- 
erence shown  for  this  troupe  foraine,  at  the 
expense  of  "  Les  comediens  du  roi."  Should 
Piron  and  Le  Sage  be  allowed  to  cast  Moliere, 
Racine  and  Corneille  into  the  shade  ?  A  repre- 
sentation on  the  subject  was  made  in  high  quar- 
ters, which  resulted  in  the  suppression,  in  171 8,  of 
the  spirituel,  but  licentious,  Theatre  de  la  Foire. 
The  directors  appealed  to  the  Parliament ;  but 
the  Parliament  only  confirmed  the  decree.  Yet, 
tenacious  of  life,  the  Theatre  de  la  Foire  for  a 
number  of  years  contrived  to  exist  through  alter- 
nate revivals  and  suppressions ;  until  opera  co- 
mique, having  assumed  "  un  ton  plus  decent," 
though  none  the  less  spirituel,  forsook  the  scene 
of  its  early  successes,  and  established  itself  in 
Paris  with  eclat. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Michel  Baron.  —  Bembourg  as  Neron.  —  Horace  and  Camille. — 
Adrienne  Le  Couvreur.  —  Ths.  Corneille's  "  Comte  d'Essex." 
—  Baron  Returns  to  the  Stage.  —  A  Caesar;  a  Baron;  a 
Roscius.  —  A  Second  Triumphant  Debut.- — Le  Premier 
Baron  de  France.  —  The  Grand  Fretre  in  "  Athalie."  — 
The  Prince  and  the  Actor.  —  "  Mon  Pauvre  Boyron." — An 
Actress's  Dinners  and  Suppers.  —  Results  of  Popularity.  — 
Voltaire  and  His  Nurse.  —  Galland's  "Arabian  Nights." 

[T  seems  singular  that  a  place  of  amuse- 
ment of  an  inferior  grade,  which,  with- 
out interference  or  remonstrance,  had 
been  allowed  to  exist  during  the  latter  years  of  the 
reign  of  Louis  XIV.,  should  have  been  suppressed 
under  the  regency.  And,  more  surprising  still, 
because  of  the  need  of  "  une  epuration  du  reper- 
toire;  les  honnites  gens  ne  pouv ant  plus  eff router 
de  pareilles  pieces!'  Its  toleration  at  a  time  of 
supposed  general  piety  has  been  accounted  for  as 
being  a  necessary  concession  to  the  populace, 
"pour  f aire  diversion  aux  maux  publics."  A  sad 
confession  that  manners,  as  M.  Bungener  remarks, 
needed  but  little  change  to  become  openly  what, 
secretly,  they  can  scarcely  be  said  to  have  ceased 
to  be  —  bad. 

During   the  temporary   eclipse  of  the   Theatre 

67 


68  THE    OLD   REGIME 

de  la  Foire  and  its  opera  comiquc,  which  had 
proved  so  attractive  a  rival  to  the  legitimate 
drama,  one  star  of  the  Theatre  Francais  disap- 
peared. Another  brilliant  one,  however,  arose, 
yet  not  to  take  the  place  of  the  former,  who  was 
Bembourg ;  the  latter,  Mdlle.  Adrienne  Le  Couv- 
reur.  Bembourg  had  made  a  great  reputation  in 
the  course  of  the  twenty-nine  years  of  his  the- 
atrical career.  Yet  it  would  seem  to  have  been 
owing  less  to  superior  ability  or  genius  on  his  part 
than  to  the  general  mediocrity  of  histrionic  talent 
at  that  period. 

The  great  Michel  Baron  withdrew  from  the 
stage  in  the  same  year  that  Bembourg  made  his 
debut.  He  was  at  the  very  height  of  his  fame, 
and  comparatively  young,  not  more  than  thirty- 
nine.  He  had  conceived  an  intense  disgust  for  a 
profession  which,  however  excellent  his  conduct 
and  private  character  might  be,  branded  him  as 
an  outcast  before  God  and  man.  Strange  incon- 
sistency, too ;  that  which,  as  a  profession,  brought 
a  curse  upon  him  both  for  time  and  eternity,  was 
with  impunity  pursued  as  an  amusement  by  roy- 
alty, by  grands  seigneurs  et  grandes  dames.  They 
might  not  only  have  theatres  in  their  hotels,  as 
most  of  them  had,  but  it  was  permitted  to  them 
to  dance  and  sing,  and  to  perform  plays  in  public, 
as  they  often  did,  yet  without  derogating  from  dig- 
nity, without  imperilling  salvation.  These  were 
things  that  Baron  found  "hard  to  be  understood." 


BEMBOURG   AS   NERON  69 

He  therefore  withdrew  in  1691,  and  left  a  clear 
stage  for  Bembourg. 

Bembourg  was  one  of  those  actors  who  "  tear  a 
passion  to  tatters."  For  anger,  he  exhibited  feroc- 
ity, and  stormed,  raged  and  shrieked  rather  than 
fretted  his  hour  on  the  stage.  Le  Sage  satirized 
him  severely.  But  Le  Sage  was  an  unfriendly 
and  partial  critic.  The  vaudeville  writer  of  the 
Theatre  de  la  Foire  could  hardly  be  expected  to 
find  praise  for  the  shouting  and  screaming  of 
Corneille  by  the  actors  of  the  Theatre  Francais, 
who  did  their  best  to  put  down  Opera  Comique. 

Bembourg,  as  Neron  in  Britannicus,  is  said  to 
have  been  so  furious  that  it  taxed  the  strongest 
nerves  to  witness  his  performance.  He  yelled 
and  raved  so  fearfully,  that  women  were  com- 
pelled to  leave  the  theatre.  Le  Mazurier  relates 
that,  on  one  occasion,  when  "  Les  Horaces"  was 
given,  the  imprecation  scene  was  made  so  terrible 
by  Bembourg's  fury,  that  Mdlle.  Duclos,  who 
played  Camille,  appeared  to  be  quite  overpow- 
ered by  it.  She  fled  across  the  stage  with  so 
much  precipitancy  that,  ere  she  could  reach  the 
side  scenes,  she  fell. 

Horace,  then,  descending  from  the  sublime 
heights  of  his  tragic  rage  to  become,  for  the 
moment,  only  Bembourg  the  actor,  sank  thus  to 
the  depths  of  the  ridiculous.  For,  instead  of 
continuing  the  scene  by  turning  the  accident  to 
account    and    stabbing    Camille,    there    and    then 


JO  THE    OLD   REGIME 

(which  the  play-going  Abbe  Nadal  considered  the 
singularity  of  the  contretemps  would  have  justi- 
fied), Horace  took  off  his  hat  —  of  course  he  was 
in  full  court  dress  —  and,  politely  bowing  to  Ca- 
mille,  gave  his  hand  to  assist  her  to  rise.  He  was 
then  under  the  necessity,  as  soon  as  Camille  was 
again  on  her  feet,  of  getting  up  a  new  whirlwind 
of  passion,  and  renewing  his  pursuit  in  order  to 
assassinate  her  behind  the  scenes.  Tragedy  thus 
became  comedy,  and  the  audience  that  probably 
would  have  applauded  an  undesigned,  therefore 
allowable,  transgression  of  the  rules  of  the  French 
drama,  laughed  heartily  at  the  incident.  Bem- 
bourg  had  to  decide,  on  the  instant,  between 
seeming  atrocity  and  obvious  absurdity,  and  opin- 
ions differed  as  to  the  judiciousness  of  his  choice. 
It  afforded  a  theme  for  conversation  in  the  salons, 
and  gave  rise  to  much  vivacious  discussion.  Bem- 
bourg  was  a  striking  example  of  the  truth  of  the 
maxim,  "  uu  succes  pent  ctre  acquis  en  frappant 
fort,  quand  on  est  incapable  de  f rapper  juste." 

Some  months  before  he  had  made  up  his  mind 
to  repose  on  his  laurels  and  enjoy  his  theatrical 
pension,  Mdlle.  Adrienne  Le  Couvreur  appeared  at 
the  Theatre  Francais,  making  a  brilliant  debut  as 
Monime  in  the  "  Mithridate "  of  Racine.  The 
Salle  was  crowded  in  every  part,  for  she  came  to 
Paris  with  a  great  provincial  reputation.  After 
this  performance  it  was  generally  allowed,  even  by 
the  critics  of  the  parterre,  that  fame  had   rather 


ADRIENNE  LE   COUVREUR  J\ 

under  than  over-stated  the  merits  of  this  great 
actress ;  and  her  subsequent  appearances  confirmed 
this  decision. 

Her  voice  was  full  and  melodious ;  her  delivery 
perfect.  To  many  of  the  audience  Corneille  and 
Racine  even  appeared  new,  and  the  beauty  of 
their  language  revealed  for  the  first  time;  so 
naturally,  yet  so  forcibly,  were  the  words  uttered 
which  hitherto  had  been  monotonously  chanted, 
shrieked,  or  declaimed.  Few  actresses  have  ap- 
proached Mdlle.  Le  Couvreur  in  the  difficult  art 
of  listening ;  her  expressive  countenance  display- 
ing, as  the  speaker  addressed  her,  the  varying  emo- 
tions of  her  mind  with  remarkable  distinctness. 

She  was  slight  in  figure,  and  rather  above  the 
middle  height.  Her  eyes  were  dark  and  brilliant, 
and  her  face  more  remarkable  for  great  intelli- 
gence and  expressiveness  than  regular  beauty  of 
feature.  Her  gestures  were  graceful,  and  an  idea 
may  be  formed  of  the  dignity  of  her  acting  from 
the  words  of  La  Motte  who,  on  entering  the  salon 
of  Mdlle.  de  Lambert,  after  having  witnessed  the 
play  of  "  Le  Comte  d'Essex,"  Mdlle.  Le  Couvreur 
being  Elizabeth,  exclaimed  with  enthusiasm,  "J'ai 
vu  unc  reine  cc  soir  parmi  les  come'diens."  As 
Phedre  and  Cornelie,  those  who  have  most  studied 
the  annals  of  the  stage  believe  that  her  representa- 
tion of  those  characters  still  remains  unsurpassed. 

At  that  time  the  dramatis  persona;  of  the  classi- 
cal plays  of  Corneille  and    Racine  wore  panzers, 


J  2  THE   OLD  REGIME 

powder,  and  mouchcs,  and  the  full  court  costume 
of  the  French  noblesse,  which  scarcely  had  changed 
since  the  days  of  Henry  IV.  Nearly  half  the  stage 
was  occupied  by  privileged  spectators,  who  sat  on 
benches  or  strutted  about  at  their  will,  and  appeared 
to  have  some  part  assigned  them  in  the  perform- 
ance. The  buzzing  conversation  they  kept  up, 
their  coming  and  going  and  changing  of  places, 
were  serious  distractions  and  drawbacks  ;  to  which 
was  added  the  semi-darkness  of  the  tallow-candle- 
lighted  Salle.  An  actor  or  actress  must  have  had 
wonderful  talent  to  hold  captive,  in  spite  of  them, 
the  attention  of  an  audience  disposed,  before  all 
things,  to  be  critical.  This  Mdlle.  Le  Couvreur 
appears  to  have  been  equal  to.  She  had  also  the 
good  fortune,  soon  after  the  retirement  of  Bem- 
bourg,  to  derive  both  artistic  support  and  instruc- 
tion from  the  return  of  Michel  Baron  to  the  stage. 
Twenty-nine  years  had  elapsed  since  his  retreat. 
Old  playgoers,  who  remembered  him  in  those  days 
of  his  prime,  deplored  his  decision  to  risk  the  great 
reputation  he  had  retired  with  by  reappearing  in 
his  old  age,  and  before  an  audience  that  knew  him 
only  by  the  records  of  former  triumphs.  But 
Baron  was  extremely  sensitive  on  the  subject  of 
age.  No  faded  belle  could  be  more  so.  He 
would  have  quarrelled  with  his  best  and  dearest 
friend,  should  he  have  ventured  to  suggest  age  as 
an  obstacle  to  his  purpose.  He  had  also  the  most 
exalted  idea  of  his  own  talents,  fortunately  with 


A   SECOND    TRIUMPHANT  DEBUT  73 

good  reason.  " Every  century,"  he  said,  "could 
produce  a  Caesar,  but  it  had  taken  twenty  centu- 
ries to  produce  a  Baron.  For,  since  the  time  of 
Roscius,  he  knew  but  of  one --himself." 

Baron  chose  Cinna  for  his  second  debut.  Fifty 
years  before,  he  had  taken  the  town  by  storm  in 
the  same  character.  The  announcement  of  his 
reappearance  in  it  was  received  with  enthusiasm. 
The  regent  was  present,  and  every  nook  and 
corner  of  the  Salic,  whence  a  glimpse  of  the  actor 
could  be  obtained,  or  the  sound  of  his  voice  heard, 
had  its  occupant.  The  French  are  rarely  very  nois- 
ily demonstrative  in  the  expression  of  their  approval 
at  the  theatre,  when  listening  to  the  ckefs-d' cenvre 
of  their  great  dramatists.  And  rapt  attention  is 
certainly  a  far  greater  compliment  to  an  actor  than 
the  vulgar  uproar  by  which  the  frequenters  of 
English  theatres  are  wont  to  express  their  satis- 
faction ;  having  probably  not  listened  to  a  line  of 
the  speech  that  seems  so  much  to  delight  them, 
and  not  always  being  capable  of  feeling  either  its 
beauties  or  defects,  if  they  have. 

Eagerly  then,  but  in  breathless  expectation,  did 
the  vast  audience  await  the  re-entrance  on  the 
scene  of  the  veteran  actor  of  near  threescore  and 
ten.  He  came.  It  may  be  said  that  he  came, 
saw,  and  conquered.  For  there  was  a  murmur 
when  he  appeared  that  denoted  both  approval  and 
astonishment,  besides  a  prodigious  fluttering  of 
fans  amongst  the  ladies.      Ladies  of  every  shade 


74  THE   OLD    REGIME 

of  philosophy  and  morality,  those  who  remem- 
bered the  Baron  of  days  of  yore  and  dared  to  con- 
fess it,  as  well  as  those  who  did  not  ;  ladies  of  the 
vieille  coin;  of  the  cour  nouvclle,  of  the  haute 
bourgeoisie,  and  even  of  the  petite  (these  last, 
commonplace  people  who  had  the  effrontery  to 
appear  there  with  their  husbands).  However,  all 
thought  the  occasion  one  of  sufficient  importance 
to  be  graced  by  their  presence. 

"  Mais  !  c  'est  le  plus  beau  cavalier  die  monde  !" 
exclaims  the  Duchesse  de  Berri  to  Madame  de 
Caylus,  as  she  peeps  out  of  her  loge  grillec.  For 
Baron,  with  firmness  of  gait,  and  erect  as  a  man  in 
the  very  summer  of  life,  presents  himself,  as  of  old, 
with  a  dignity  of  bearing  that  even  the  Grand 
Monarque,  at  the  height  of  his  glory,  might  have 
envied. 

Baron  was  not  only  the  greatest  comedian  of 
his  time  (playing  tragedy  and  the  higher  range  of 
comedy  equally  well),  but  he  was  considered  the 
handsomest  man  of  his  clay,  and  probably  none  sur- 
passed him  in  vanity.  Contrary  to  the  custom  of 
the  period,  his  habits  were  regular  and  abstemious, 
by  which  means  he  retained  the  vigour  of  an 
excellent  constitution,  and  his  personal  advantages 
unimpaired,  to  an  unusually  late  period  of  life. 
His  fine  figure,  grand  manners,  and  extremely 
handsome  face,  of  course  had  some  influence  in 
securing  the  favour  of  the  ladies.  But  usually  he 
was  haughty  and  overbearing  towards  his  own  sex, 


LE  PREMIER   BARON  BE   FRANCE  75 

who  tolerated  him  only  on  account  of  his  immense 
talent,  which  all  felt  compelled  to  acknowledge. 
This  talent  he  evidently  still  possessed,  and  with- 
out any  apparent  diminution  of  the  physical  quali- 
ties that  gave  added  interest  to  the  expression  of 
it.  He  passed  through  the  ordeal  of  representing 
the  haughty  Cinna  with  an  eclat  worthy  of  the 
great  reputation  acquired  in  his  younger  days ; 
proving  his  right  still  to  claim  the  appellation  of 
Le  profiler  Baron  dc  France.  Baron  and  Mdlle. 
Le  Couvreur,  together,  were  irresistible,  and  the 
Theatre  Francais  flourished. 

The  real  motive  of  Baron's  return  to  the  stage 
was  his  extraordinary  enthusiasm  for  his  art.  The 
exaggeration  and  ranting  of  Bembourg  drove  him 
frantic,  and  to  his  evil  example  he  attributed,  in  a 
great  degree,  the  decadence  he  perceived  in  the 
style  of  French  acting.  As  soon,  therefore,  as 
Bembourg  retired,  Baron  resolved  to  afford  the 
younger  comedians  the  benefit  of  his  experience 
and  example.  Mdlle.  Le  Couvreur,  who  at  one 
time  seemed  likely  to  drop  into  the  monotonous 
sing-song  she  so  continually  heard  around  her,  was 
saved  from  it  by  Baron's  warnings  and  instruc- 
tions. Mdlle.  Duclos,  no  longer  young,  had  fallen 
too  irretrievably  into  this  vicious  habit  to  reform 
her  style  thoroughly,  but  she  was  improved  by 
continual  reminders.  Mdlle.  Belmond,  and  other 
young  actresses  and  actors  of  the  troupe,  were 
similarly  indebted  to  Baron. 


7&  THE    OLD   REGIME 

In  the  Grand  Pritre  in  "Athalie"  he  is  said  to 
have  been  perfectly  sublime --" A ussi  sublime 
dans  son  jeu"  says  a  French  writer,  "que  Racine 
dans  ses  vers."  He  never  declaimed  tragedy ; 
he  spoke  it,  and  was  tender  or  passionate,  accord- 
ing to  the  character  he  assumed.  His  voice  was 
sonorous,  just,  and  flexible;  his  tones  energetic 
and  varied.  His  silence ;  his  looks  ;  the  varying 
expression  of  his  countenance,  revealing  the  chang- 
ing emotions  of  the  mind  ;  his  attitudes ;  his 
gestures  —  sparingly  employed,  yet  with  perfect 
art  —  completed  the  unfailing  effect  of  an  utter- 
ance inspired  by  the  sensations  of  nature.  He 
proved  that  talent,  such  as  his,  knew  no  limits, 
and  was  unaffected  by  age. 

As  when  he  retired  from  the  stage,  so  when  he 
returned,  the  motive  assigned  for  it  was  not  gen- 
erally accepted  as  the  true  one.  But  it  was  well 
known  that  he  was  not  needy.  He  was  in  receipt 
of  two  pensions,  and  possessed  private  property. 
He  had  been  very  liberally  paid  during  his  retreat 
for  teaching  princes  and  princesses  to  act,  and  for 
superintending  their  performances  at  the  theatre 
of  the  palace  of  Versailles.  He  always  went  to 
and  from  the  Theatre  Francois  in  his  own  carriage. 
On  one  occasion  his  coachman  and  servants  quar- 
relled and  fought  with  those  of  the  Prince  de 
Conti--such  brawls  were  frequent  amongst  the 
coachmen  and  lackeys  of  those  clays.  Baron's 
servants  appear  to  have  been  as  arrogant  as  their 


"MOjV  pauvre  boyron"  77 

master,  and,  having  had  the  worst  of  this  en- 
counter, complained  to  him  loudly  of  their  oppo- 
nents. Happening  to  meet  the  prince  in  the  the- 
atre, Baron  mentioned  the  occurrence;  and  using 
the  term,  "  Vos  gens  ct  les  miens,"  requested  him 
to  reprimand  his  servants. 

The  prince,  one  of  the  regent's  rones,  thought 
this  unpardonable  familiarity.  He  replied,  "Jlfais, 
mon  pauvre  Boyron,  que  vcux  tu  que  je  dise?  Dc 
quoi  diable  aussi  faviscs  tu  d 'avoir  des  gens  ? ' 
The  amour  propre  of  the  actor  must  have  been 
very  severely  wounded,  no  less  at  being  tutoye 
even  by  a  prince,  than  addressed  as  "mon  pauvre 
Boyron."  Boyron  was  the  original  name  of  his 
family,  but  his  father,  also  an  actor,  and  accus- 
tomed to  play  in  the  theatrical  entertainments  of 
the  court  of  Louis  XIII.,  was  frequently  spoken 
to  by  the  king,  who  always  called  him  Baron.  This 
name  he  assumed,  his  son  and  other  members  of 
his  family  continued  to  write  themselves  Baron  ; 
and  it  was  sometimes  said  in  jest  that  the  elder 
Michel  Baron  had  been  ennobled  by  Louis  XIII. 
He  was  a  tolerably  good  actor,  but  the  real  talent 
of  this  theatrical  family  centred  wholly  in  Michel 
Baron,  fils.  He  made  the  name  illustrious  in  his- 
trionic annals,  and  thus  secured  to  all  who  bore  it 
a  certain  degree  of  favour  and  tolerance,  even  when 
evincing  but  very  mediocre  abilities. 

Baron   was   often   well   received   in   aristocratic 
circles.     He  could  entirely  throw  off  the  comedian 


78  THE    OLD  REGIME 

and  be  witty  and  agreeable.  But  if  he  felt  that  he 
was  patronized  and  not  welcomed  as  nn  homme  du 
grand  monde,  he  could  assume  an  air  that  greatly 
disconcerted  his  would-be  patron.  He  probably 
took  ample  revenge  on  the  supercilious  Prince  de 
Conti,  if  there  is  truth  in  the  anecdote.  Anec- 
dotes of  Baron  are  numerous.  His  great  presence 
of  mind  was  often  very  serviceable  to  him  on  the 
stage  —  for  envy  frequently  sought  means  of  em- 
barrassing him,  which  it  was  not  at  all  easy  to  do. 
His  intimacy  with  La  Motte-Houdart,  whose  four 
tragedies  owed  their  success  to  Baron's  impersona- 
tion of  the  principal  characters,  opened  to  him  the 
salon  of  Madame  de  Lambert. 

In  that  salon  Mcllle.  Le  Couvreur  also,  as  we 
learn  incidentally  from  her  letters,  was  sometimes 
a  guest.  It  may  be  inferred  from  it  that  the 
"  salon  tres  respectable"  was  a  less  strait-laced  as- 
sembly than  might  have  been  supposed.  Either 
from  a  friendly  interest  in  her,  or  possibly  from 
mere  curiosity,  as  she  had  a  great  reputation  for 
esprit,  Adrienne  was  much  sought  after  in  society, 
by  the  ladies  no  less  than  the  gentlemen.  She 
herself  gave  dinners  and  suppers,  and  duchesses 
went  to  partake  of  them.  She  was  the  fashion, 
and  she  and  her  guests  were  neither  better  nor 
worse  than  the  age  they  lived  in.  It  is  probable 
that  the  society  of  that  period  was  not  more  disso- 
lute than  when,  in  the  preceding  century,  it  was 
de  rigueur  that  every  lady  should  have  her  "galant 


Hfcrienne  Xc  (touvreut 


A'ESCrLTS   OF  POPULARITY  ?() 

ct  honnete  homme"  and  a  train  of  adorers  under 
the  name  of  "  amants  inoffensifs. 

Referring  to  the  invitations  she  receives,  Mdlle. 
Le  Couvreur  remarks  :  "  If,  from  indisposition  or 
other  unavoidable  cause,  I  fail  to  meet  a  party  of 
ladies,  probably,  all  of  them  unknown  to  me,  '  You 
perceive,'  one  says,  ' elle  fait  la  merveilleuse? 
'Ah,'  remarks  another,  '  C  est  que  nous  nc  sommes 
pas  titries' — 'our  husbands  hold  no  appointments 
at  court.'  If  I  do  go  among  them,"  she  continues, 
"and  happen  to  be  serious — one  cannot  always 
be  lively  with  a  number  of  people  one  has  never 
set  eyes  on  before  —  they  whisper  among  them- 
selves, raise  their  eyebrows,  shrug  their  shoulders. 
'This,  then,  is  the  young  person  who  they  say  is 
so  witty?'  asks  one.  'Remark  how  disdainful  she 
is.  You  cannot  please  her,'  says  another,  'unless 
you  know  Latin  and  Greek.  She  is  one  of 
Madame  de  Lambert's  set.'  "  And  thus  Mdlle. 
Adrienne  found  it  difficult  to  satisfy  the  people 
who  were  so  anxious  to  make  a  lioness  of  her. 

She  succeeded  better,  perhaps,  with  the  gentle- 
men than  with  the  ladies.  Voltaire,  amongst 
others,  threw  himself  at  her  feet,  as  he  had  a 
habit  of  doing  to  women  he  cared  to  pay  court  to. 
She  played  the  heroines  of  his  earlier  tragedies, 
and  studied  her  parts  under  his  direction.  Adri- 
enne Le  Couvreur  was  really  a  good,  kind 
creature;  giving  all  her  spare  cash  to  one  admirer, 
selling    her    diamonds     to     supply    the    needs    of 


80  THE    OLD   REGIME 

another,  and  proving  her  friendship  for  Voltaire 
by  courageously  nursing  him  through  the  small- 
pox—  a  disease  attended  in  his  case  with  the 
usual  disfigurement.  Before  that  misfortune,  Vol- 
taire is  said  to  have  been  fairly  good-looking.  To 
beguile  the  weary  hours  of  a  slow  convalescence, 
Adrienne  was  accustomed  to  sit  by  his  couch  and 
read  for  his  amusement  the  "Arabian  Nights."  * 

*  M.  Galland,  the  French  translator  of  the  "  Contes  Arabes," 
then  in  everybody's  hands,  had  lately  died  in  Paris.  He  was 
well  known  as  an  Oriental  scholar,  and  much  esteemed  in  liter- 
ary society.  Shortly  before  his  death  a  party  of  young  men, 
returning  home  in  a  rather  hilarious  mood  from  a  supper, 
stopped,  with  their  lantern-bearers,  before  M.  Galland's  house  in 
the  Rue  Dauphine.  Terrible  deeds  were  of  nightly  occurrence  in 
the  streets  of  Paris  in  those  good  old  times  ;  and  the  loud  knock- 
ing at  the  door,  and  the  calling  for  M.  Galland  on  a  cold,  dark, 
wintry  night,  greatly  alarmed  the  household.  His  servant  at 
last  cautiously  opened  a  window,  and  inquired  the  meaning  of 
this  disturbance,  and  who  the  nocturnal  rioters  were.  They 
want  M.  Galland,  they  tell  him.  Presently  Galland  appears  at 
the  window  in  nightcap  and  dressing-gown.  "  Eh  Men,  messieurs, 
que  desirez  vous  ?  "  he  inquires  of  these  noisy  visitors.  Parody- 
ing the  phrase  with  which  he  begins  each  of  the  thousand  and 
one  chapters  of  the  "  Arabian  Nights,"  they  reply,  "  M.  Galland, 
si  vous  ne  dormez  pas,/ai(es  nous  que/ques-uns  de  ces  contes  que 
vous  savez."  M.  Galland's  window  is  immediately  closed  with  a 
bang,  and  the  young  men,  having  had  their  foolish  joke  out, 
reassemble  their  lantern-bearers  and  depart.  The  misfortune 
was  that  M.  Galland  was  not  very  well,  and  the  chill  he  got  by 
being  roused  from  his  bed  on  a  cold  January  night,  if  it  did  not 
actually  cause  his  death,  was  supposed  to  have  hastened  it,  as 
he  died  very  soon  after,  probably  a  victim  to  the  fame  of  his 
book. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

Racine's  Academic  Address.  —  A  Political  Intrigante. —  The 
Spanish  Plot.  —  Arrest  of  La  Duchesse  du  Maine.  —  Con- 
fessions and  Apologies.  — ■  A  Traitor  in  the  Camp.  —  A  Gen- 
eral Lover.  —  The  Lye's  Eloquence.  —  A  Persevering  Lover. 
—  Results  of  Gallantry.  —  La  Duchesse  de  Richelieu. — 
The  Due  de  Modena.  —  A  Desponding  Bride.  —  A  Heartless 
Lover.  —  A  Learned  Academician. — A  Noble  Badaud. 

I  HERE  is  perhaps  no  period  of  French 
history  of  which  it  is  more  difficult  to 
give,  in  a  very  succinct  form,  a  clear 
idea  of  the  general  state  of  society,  than  that  of 
the  regency  of  Philippe,  Due  d' Orleans.  It  was  a 
period  crowded  with  incidents,  various  as  numer- 
ous. It  was  the  awakening  from  torpor  and 
gloom  to  a  life  of  unrestrained  gaiety,  folly,  and 
vice,  and  the  re-establishing  of  society  under  new 
forms.  Political  intrigue  then  found  a  home  in 
the  salons  whence  it  had  been  banished  since  the 
time  of  the  Fronde,  but  where  now  the  esprit  pJiil- 
osopJiiqac  began  also  to  develop  itself.  Montes- 
quieu had  published  his  spiritucl  satire,  the 
"  Lettres  Persanes ;  "  and  the  influence  of  Vol- 
taire's sarcastic  pen  was  beginning  to  be  felt. 
Literature,  which  under  Louis  XIV.  confined 
itself  chiefly  to  gathering  laurels  in  the  fields  of 

Si 


82  THE    OLD   REGIME 

poesy  and  the  drama,  now  ventured  on  assailing 
the  government. 

When  Racine  was  installed  in  his  academic 
arm-chair,  he  told  his  learned  confreres,  in  his 
discourse  on  that  occasion,  that  their  greatest 
incentive  to  diligent  continuance  of  their  efforts 
to  perfect  the  French  language  should  be  to  make 
it  more  and  more  worthy  to  celebrate  the  praises 
of  Louis  XIV.  One  is  pained  to  know  that  so 
great  a  genius  could  thus  servilely  abase  himself, 
and  that  he  could  suggest  no  worthier  theme  for  a 
language  he  had  so  nobly  and  eloquently  other- 
wise employed.  Voltaire  might  well  say,  "Racine 
ri etait  pas  aussi philosophe  que  grand poete." 

The  philosophers  of  the  new  republic  of  letters 
took  a  far  different  view  of  the  subjects  best  suited 
for  the  display  of  French  eloquence,  as  well  as  of 
their  own  position  in  the  social  scale.  They  no 
longer  cared  to  seek  the  patronage  of  the  beau 
monde.  Rather  they  stood  aloof,  and  held  reunions 
amongst  themselves,  claiming,  as  savants  and phil- 
osophers, to  be  received  as  a  distinguished  section 
of  society.  Such  consideration  can  hardly  be 
said  to  have  been  already  accorded  to  Voltaire ; 
but  by  audacity,  tact,  and  talent  he  had  conquered 
it  for  himself.  Many  prejudices  had  yet  to  be 
overcome  before  rank  and  wealth  could  receive 
literary  distinction  as  its  equal.  But  the  barriers 
fell  by  degrees  before  the  teachers  of  new  doc- 
trines, and  the  spread  of  new  opinions — destined 


A    POLITICAL    INTRIGANTE  S$ 

by-ancl-by  entirely  to  overturn  the  old  organiza- 
tion of  things. 

Chief  among  female  political  intrigantes  of  this 
period  was  the  Duchesse  du  Maine.  That  she,  a 
princess  of  the  blood,  should  have  wedded  a  man 
contented  to  sit  quietly  clown  to  his  studies,  and 
to  the  collecting  of  objets  d'art  under  the  stigma 
of  degraded  rank,  was  a  burning  thought  to  this 
high  -  souled  little  woman.  The  receptions  at 
Sceaux;  the  private  theatricals,  in  which  she  fig- 
ured with  so  much  eclat ;  the  madrigals  addressed 
to  her,  sung  or  recited  in  her  honour; — all  were 
now  powerless  to  charm.  Her  salon  in  Paris 
became  the  resort  of  all  who  thought  they  had 
cause  to  complain  of  the  government  of  the  re- 
gency. The  disaffected  formed  a  numerous  party, 
and  to  further  their  own  views  lent  their  aid  to 
the  furtherance  of  the  scheme  of  the  duchess. 
The  result  was  the  so-called  Spanish  plot.  Its 
object  was  to  induce  Philip  V.  to  invade  France, 
to  secure,  if  possible,  the  person  of  the  Due 
d' Orleans,  to  claim  the  regency  of  the  kingdom 
himself,  and  of  course  reinstate  the  duchess  in  all 
those  rights  and  privileges  of  royal  rank  she  had 
been  deprived  of. 

Great  pains  were  taken  to  conceal  this  strata- 
gem from  the  duke ;  and  as  his  attention  was 
absorbed  by  literary  pursuits,  and  love  of  retire- 
ment often  took  him  from  Paris  to  Sceaux,  it 
was  not  difficult  to  do  so.      The  scheme  was  well 


84  THE    OLD   REGIME 

on  its  way  towards  realization.  The  Spanish  am- 
bassador, Prince  de  Cellamare,  and  Philip's  first 
minister,  Cardinal  Alberoni,  were  deeply  engaged 
in  it.  Philip  himself,  more  frequently  mad  than 
sane,  liked  the  idea  of  being  regent  of  that  France 
he  loved  so  much.  In  his  fits  of  despondency  he 
regarded  himself  as  a  usurper  of  the  Spanish 
throne,  lamented  his  expatriation,  often  deter- 
mined to  abdicate,  and  always  cherished  the  hope 
of  revisiting  France. 

But  if  the  Due  du  Maine's  eyes  were  sealed, 
other  and  more  vigilant  ones  were  open.  Espion- 
nasre  was   the   rule   of    the    French    Government. 

o 

It  was  the  only  duty  the  police  executed  with 
regularity  and  perseverance.  Le  Comte  d'Argen- 
son  (to  whom  the  sobriquet  of  "Le  Damne"'  was 
given,  because  of  his  repulsive  countenance)  had 
for  nineteen  years  been  at  the  head  of  the  depart- 
ment, and  had  trained  his  secret  agents  to  an 
extraordinary  degree  of  perfection.  The  eyes  of 
Herault,  his  successor,  had  been  for  some  time  on 
the  duchess.  Part  of  her  secret  had  transpired 
in  the  salon  of  Madame  de  Tencin,  an  intrigante 
also,  and  amie  intime  of  Dubois  —  no  longer 
abbe,  but,  to  the  disgrace  of  the  regent,  elevated 
to  the  Archbishopric  of  Cambrai,  and  now  minis- 
ter of  foreign  affairs.  The  unusual  stir  at  the 
embassy,  occasioned  by  the  despatching  of  emis- 
saries to  the  Spanish  court,  was  also  remarked  by 
the   vigilant   lieutenant   of    police.     A   seizure   of 


ARREST  OF  LA    DUCHESSE   DU  MAINE       85 

papers  took  place,  and  one  of  the  messengers  was 
stopped  at  Poitiers.  On  the  29th  of  December, 
1 71 8,  the  duchess,  to  her  dismay,  was  arrested  in 
Paris,  and  conveyed  to  the  citadel  of  Dijon.  The 
duke  was  found  very  harmlessly  occupied  in  his 
study  at  Sceaux,  but  was  sent  to  the  Chateau  de 
Dourlens.  Mdlle.  Delaunay  shared  the  prison  of 
the  duchess,  and  several  other  members  of  the 
duke's  household,  as  well  as  some  military  parti- 
zans  of  Spain,  were  confined  in  the  Bastille. 

This  "abominable  conspiration"  —  thus  it  was 
proclaimed  throughout  the  land  —  ended  in  "con- 
fessions and  apologies  "  on  the  part  of  the  duch- 
ess, who,  after  two  years'  imprisonment,  was 
allowed  to  return  to  Sceaux.  It  was  vainly 
sought  to  inculpate  the  duke,  much  as  the  re- 
gent and  M.  le  Due  desired  it.  The  latter 
especially  is  said  to  have  felt  towards  him  "  an 
antipathy  like  that  which  some  persons  have  for 
certain  reptiles  or  species  of  vermin."  Against 
their  will,  then,  he  also  was  liberated,  and  without 
any  restriction  as  to  his  place  of  residence.  But 
he  refused  to  join  the  duchess  at  Sceaux;  resent- 
ing, as  much  as  it  was  in  his  apathetic  nature  to 
resent,  the  two  years'  imprisonment  to  which  her 
schemes  had  subjected  him. 

But  the  little  duchess  on  this  point  would  not 
give  way;  though  the  duke  held  out  for  some 
time  against  both  her  commands  and  entreat- 
ies.     He  had,  however,  been  accustomed  to  obey; 


86  THE    OLD   REGIME 

and,  as  she  had  resolved  on  having  him  back  at 
Sceaux,  which  was  his  favourite  retreat,  he  at  last 
yielded  to  her  wishes  and  returned.  She  also 
succeeded  in  making  her  peace  with  the  regent, 
who  good-naturedly  assured  her  that  he  would 
forget  altogether  what  had  passed. 

There  yet  remained,  however,  one  culprit  in  the 
Bastille  —  one  who  had  been  so  deeply  and  trea- 
sonably concerned  in  this  terrible  plot  that  the 
regent  declared  he  must  lose  his  head.  "  He  has 
done  enough,"  he  exclaimed,  "to  forfeit  four  heads 
if  he  had  them  !  " 

"  Four  of  the  handsomest  heads  in  France  have 
not  the  beauty  of  his  one!"  was  the  energetic 
reply.  Surely  such  nonsense  could  have  been 
uttered  only  by  a  very  young  lady. 

But  the  regent  was  by  no  means  moved  by  it  to 
pity.  "Handsome  or  not,"  he  said,  "it  is  owned 
by  a  worthless  person — a  disturber  of  the  peace 
of  the  kingdom,  and  a  traitor  to  his  country."  If 
he  had  added,  "He  has  supplanted  me  in  the  good 
graces  of  several  of  the  belles  dailies  of  the  court," 
he  would  have  revealed  what  stung  him  to  the 
quick  in  this  gentleman's  behaviour  quite  as  much 
as  the  part  he  had  taken  in  the  Spanish  affair. 
It  was,  however,  no  less  an  affair  of  treason  than 
the  having  promised  Cardinal  Alberoni  to  deliver 
Bayonne,  where  this  officer's  regiment  was  in 
garrison,  into  the  hands  of  the  Spanish  troops, 
should  Philip  determine  to  invade  France. 


A    GENERAL    LOVER  87 

This  beau  cavalier,  now  in  the  Bastille  for  the 
third  time,  was  no  other  than  the  young  Due  de 
Richelieu.  He  is  said  to  have  joined  the  duchess's 
party  from  annoyance  that  no  influential  post  in 
the  government  had  yet  been  given  to  him.  But 
the  regent  disliked  him,  and  Richelieu  took  his 
revenge  by  making  a  point  of  stepping  in  between 
him  and  his  mistresses.  He  had  not  the  power  of 
conferring  titles  upon  them  and  extensive  estates, 
or  of  making  over  to  their  use  certain  items  of  the 
taxes  ;  but  he  had  the  advantage  of  being  but 
twenty-three,  while  the  regent  was  forty-six.  He 
was  exceedingly  handsome,  too,  and  very  seductive, 
but  perfectly  heartless  and  thoroughly  unprincipled. 
He  squandered  his  income  freely  enough,  and, 
though  without  a  particle  of  feeling,  he  could  as- 
sume with  success  the  role  of  the  despairing,  pas- 
sionate lover. 

He  had  succeeded  not  long  before  in  gaining, 
clandestinely,  of  course,  the  affections  of  Mdlle. 
de  Charolais,  sister  of  Monsieur  le  Due ;  and  his 
conquests  in  the  royal  houses  he  greatly  piqued 
himself  upon.  She  was  very  young,  and  exceed- 
ingly pretty.  Her  eyes  were  beautiful,  and  so 
remarkably  lustrous  that  she  was  recognized  by 
them  when  wearing  a  mask.  Mdlle.  de  Valois, 
one  of  the  regent's  daughters,  a  very  handsome 
girl,  had  also  attracted  him  greatly,  when  she 
made  her  debut  at  a  court  ball  given  to  celebrate 
the  visit  to  Paris  of  the  Duchesse  de    Lorraine. 


88  THE    OLD   REGIME 

The  young  duke  was  almost  in  love  with  her  ;  he 
decidedly  admired  her,  and  determined  she  should 
know  it.  It  was  difficult.  But  that  gave  zest 
and  piquancy  to  his  purpose.  It  had  been  difficult 
to  make  Mdlle.  de  Charolais  understand  that  her 
smile  or  frown  was  life  or  death  to  him.  He  was 
an  adept  in  that  "  eloquence,  twin-born  of  thought," 
the  eloquent  language  of  the  eyes.  But  so  was  the 
keen-sighted  Madame  de  Prie,  the  "  amie  intime," 
as  it  was  customary  to  say,  of  M.  le  Due  ;  and  any 
openly  displayed  attentions  to  Mdlle.  de  Charolais 
would  have  been  very  unceremoniously  resented 
by  her  brother. 

But  Richelieu  had  evaded  suspicion,  and  won 
the  young  princess's  heart.  He  has  now  a  new 
conquest  to  achieve,  many  obstacles  to  overcome. 
Mdlle.  de  Valois  has  elderly  and  careful  attendants, 
and  appears  to  be  vigilantly  guarded.  From  this 
circumstance,  it  may  be  observed,  en  passant,  one 
is  willing  to  believe  that  the  conduct  and  character 
of  the  regent's  daughters  have  usually  been  de- 
scribed with  much  exaggeration.  Mere  folly, 
doubtless,  has  frequently  been  magnified  into  vice, 
owing  to  the  unfortunate  mania  that  prevailed  in 
the  court  of  the  regent,  and  far  beyond  that  circle, 
of  assuming  an  air  of  reckless  depravity  as  a  pro- 
test against  the  hypocritical  piety  of  the  old  court 
of  Versailles. 

But  to  return  to  Richelieu.  To  accomplish  his 
object,  he  had  to  bribe,  to  persuade,  to  make  love 


RESULTS   OF  GALLANTRY  89 

to  serving-women  ;  to  assume  numerous  disguises  ; 
to  write,  or  to  get  written,  billets-doux  --tender, 
imploring,  passionate,  despairing  —  and  to  tax  his 
poor  brain  to  invent  methods  for  their  safe  deliv- 
ery to  the  princess.  At  every  court  fete,  ball,  or 
concert,  the  Due  de  Richelieu  was  sure  to  be  pres- 
ent ;  but  not  always  Mdlle.  de  Valois.  Though  she 
now  comprehended  that  the  perfumed  billets  which 
reached  her  hands,  hidden  in  roses  or  other  flowers 
—  so  frequently  lying  on  her  escritoire,  her  tapis- 
serie,  or  toilette,  and  placed  there  she  knew  not 
how  —  were  missives  from  the  handsome  young 
duke,  whose  despairing,  languishing  gaze  she  so 
often  encountered,  and  replied  to  with  a  burning 
blush. 

At  length  an  interview  took  place.  The  lovers 
met  in  the  apartment  of  one  of  the  officials  of  the 
household,  whose  services  Richelieu  had  secured. 
Many  stolen  meetings  followed  ;  the  duke  always 
in  some  new  disguise.  The  jealous  suspicions  of 
Mdlle.  de  Charolais,  however,  led  to  the  discovery 
of  this  intimacy. 

Richelieu  had  but  recently  left  the  Bastille  after 
a  three  weeks'  detention  there ;  the  cause  of  his 
imprisonment  being  a  desperate  encounter  with 
swords  between  him  and  the  Comte  de  Gare  —  at 
mid-day,  in  Paris,  in  the  Rue  St.  Thomas  du 
Louvre  —  the  result  of  a  violent  quarrel  concern- 
ing an  affair  of  gallantry.  It  happened  at  that 
time  that  the  King  of  Sardinia  made  proposals  for 


QO  THE    OLD   REGIME 

the  hand  of  Mdlle.  de  Valois.  It  was,  therefore, 
desirable,  as  the  regent  was  willing  to  accede  to 
them,  to  hush  up  the  princess's  love  affair.  Rich- 
elieu, in  consequence,  escaped  another  visit  to  the 
Bastille,  but  was  ordered  to  join  his  regiment  at 
Bayonne.  Madame,  however,  in  her  correspond- 
ence with  the  German  courts,  related  the  incident. 
It  was  repeated,  commented  upon,  and  exaggerated, 
until  the  tale  reached  Piedmont,  and  with  all  its 
additions  and  embellishments  came  to  the  ears  of 
the  Sardinian  king,  who  forthwith  hastened  to 
withdraw  his  proposal  of  marriage. 

The  regent  was  naturally  much  incensed,  and 
it  being  immediately  afterwards  discovered  that 
Richelieu  was  implicated  in  the  Spanish  plot,  his 
arrest  was  ordered,  and  for  the  third  time  he  took 
up  his  quarters  in  the  Bastille.  Worse  than  that, 
he  must  lay  his  handsome  head  on  the  block — for 
the  regent  has  vowed  he  shall  lose  it. 

Mdlle.  de  Valois  is  in  despair  ;  she  is  devotedly 
attached  to  him.  Mdlle.  de  Charolais  the  same. 
But  who  shall  write  the  list  of  ladies,  noble  if  not 
royal,  beautiful  if  not  noble,  who  with  sighs  and 
tears  ask  the  life  of  this  gay  Lothario  ?  Even  the 
duchess  entreats  —  the  wife  whose  very  existence 
he  determined  (and  has  kept  his  determination) 
systematically  to  ignore,  from  the  clay,  when  but  a 
boy  of  fourteen,  his  father  injudiciously  married 
him  to  her.  She  was  Mdlle.  de  Noailles,  a  young 
lady  some  few  years  his   senior  ;  very  plain-faced 


THE  DUC  DE  MODE X A  9 1 

and  very  sedate.  She  was  to  check  the  exuber- 
ant spirits  of  her  wild  young  husband,  who  already 
gave  promise  of  becoming  the  greatest  libertine 
of  the  age.  The  bride  was  eighteen,  petite,  and  in 
appearance  younger  than  De  Fronsac  (his  title  at 
that  time).  He  was  tall  for  his  age,  well  grown 
and  handsome.  He  had  probably  forgotten  his 
wife's  existence  when  she  visited  him  in  the  Bas- 
tille, eight  years  after  their  marriage.  No  other 
lady  was  allowed  to  see  him  ;  all  applicants  for 
that  favour  were  sternly  refused.  She,  however, 
came  as  a  surprise  upon  him  ;  her  folly  in  display- 
ing so  much  interest  in  his  fate  diverting  him 
greatly. 

It  is  doubtful  whether  the  regent  could,  with 
impunity,  have  sent  this  grand  seigneur  to  the 
scaffold.  More  likely  a  lettre-de-caehet  would 
have  banished  him  to  his  estates.  But  fortune 
again  smiled  upon  him.  Mdlle.  de  Valois  con- 
tinued to  weep  and  lament,  and  on  her  knees  to 
implore  her  father  to  pardon  and  release  her  lover. 
The  regent  was  annoyed  at  this  importunity,  and 
angrily  desired  her  to  desist.  But  another  suitor 
soon  appeared  on  the  scene,  the  Due  de  Modena, 
who  had  sent  a  special  envoy  to  ask  Mdlle.  de 
Valois  in  marriage.  Of  this  the  regent  took  ad- 
vantage. He  was  anxious  to  marry  this  daughter, 
and,  having  missed  the  queenly  diadem,  he  resolved 
that  she  should  wear  the  ducal  one.  The  duke 
having  sent  his  portrait  —  which,  though  probably 


92  THE    OLD   REGIME 

flattered,  was  by  no  means  attractive  —  the  regent 
presented  it  to  the  lady.  She  refused  to  look  at 
it,  or  to  hear  the  word  marriage  mentioned.  The 
regent  calmly  replied  that  the  pardon  and  imme- 
diate release  of  Richelieu  depended  on  her  prom- 
ise to  accept  the  Due  de  Modena. 

She  caught  at  the  words,  "  to  save  her  lover's 
life  she  would  gladly  give  her  own.  She  would 
make  even  a  greater  sacrifice,  she  would  marry  the 
duke."  Instantly  she  gave  her  promise;  exacted 
her  father's ;  turned  her  eyes  on  the  frowning 
brow  of  the  portrait,  and  swooned. 

The  regent,  in  this  instance,  faithfully  kept  his 
word ;  for  Richelieu  was  walking  about  Paris  the 
next  evening.  Some  few  days  after,  the  ceremony 
of  the  marriage,  by  proxy,  took  place  at  the  Palais 
Royal.  The  regent  was  anxious  to  conclude  the 
arrangements,  the  bride  being  in  a  very  despond- 
ing state  of  mind.  The  first  feelings  of  enthusi- 
asm having  calmed  down,  her  grief  became  exces- 
sive. The  preparations  for  her  marriage  and 
departure  for  Italy  filled  her  with  terror,  and  she 
would  take  no  part  in  them. 

"On  the  day,"  says  a  contemporary  memoir, 
"  that  Mdlle.  de  Valois  was  united  by  proxy  to  the 
Due  de  Modena,  her  appearance  was  that  of  a 
victim  led  to  the  sacrifice.  Pale,  trembling  and 
tearful,  she  excited  the  utmost  sympathy  ;  while, 
to  add  to  her  distress,  prominently  placed  amongst 
the  guests   stood   the   Due   de    Richelieu."     The 


A   HEARTLESS  LOVER  93 

regent  had  had  the  cruelty  to  invite  him,  and  he 
the  heartlessness  to  attend.  Beside  him  was 
Mdlle.  de  Charolais,  with  whom,  apparently  un- 
moved, he  occasionally  laughed  and  conversed, 
both  of  them  observing  the  bride  with  a  critical 
eye. 

False  sentimentality  had  not  yet  come  into 
fashion,  and  real  emotion  was  not  easily  excited 
amongst  the  gay  company  assembled  to  witness 
the  bridal  ceremony.  But  the  story  of  the  victim 
and  her  seducer,  though  hushed  up,  and  all  men- 
tion of  it  carefully  suppressed,  was  well  known  to 
every  one  present.  Richelieu's  air  of  bravado 
inspired,  therefore,  general  contempt.  The  Duch- 
esse  de  Modena  and  Mdlle.  de  Charolais  later  in 
life  more  thoroughly  understood  the  character  of 
the  man  who  had  deceived  them  both,  and  both 
learned  to  despise  him.  His  triste  celebrity,  how- 
ever, suffered  not  from  such  passing  clouds,  but 
rather  increased  than  diminished. 

Not  long  before  this  marriage  took  place,  even 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  writing  from  St.  Cyr,  and 
referring  to  Richelieu,  calls  him  "mon  favori." 
She  says  also  "  Lcs  vauriens  ne  me  dcplaiscut  pas 
toujoiirs  ;  but  she  adds,  "pourvu  qiHls  naillent 
pas  jusqitau  vice,  et  an  manquement  d'honneur" 
Richelieu  had  certainly  long  before  passed  from 
the  scapegrace  state  to  that  of  vice  and  dishonour. 

From   some  inexplicable  motive,  he  aspired   at 
this  time   to   an   academic   arm-chair,   and    in   the 


94  THE    OLD   REGIME 

course  of  the  next  year,  being  not  yet  twenty-four, 
a  vacancy  occurring,  he  was  elected  to  fill  it, 
"never  having  written,"  says  Duclos,  "anything 
but  a  few  billets-doux"  Through  what  powerful 
female  influence  he  obtained  that  honour  is  not 
stated.  It  may  have  gratified  his  vanity  to  have  a 
seat  amongst  the  Forty,  but  it  must  have  been 
singular  to  hear  one  of  the  professed  guardians  of 
the  purity  of  the  French  language  talk  like  an  illit- 
erate badaud  or  Parisian  cockney.  It  was  the  fash- 
ion to  do  so  at  the  reunions  of  the  dissolute  young 
men  of  the  regency,  and  none  had  cultivated  this 
unenviable  accomplishment  more  sedulously  than 
the  Due  de  Richelieu. 

"  V'nez  done  M'sieux;  v  la  qucqucs  Louis. 
Faut  mef  ga  dans  sa  pocJie ;  faut  pas  Vrenfermer 
dans  V secretaire,  etc.,"  is  a  specimen  given  of  his 
usual  manner  of  speaking.  But  this  is  probably 
a  libel.  Sentimental  love-making  could  never 
have  thus  been  carried  on.  It  might  have  suc- 
ceeded with  the  grisettes,  and  been  assumed  when 
masked,  as  well  as  have  diverted  both  him  and 
his  wild  companions  to  talk  in  that  fashion  at 
their  nocturnal  revels,  ct  via  tout.  Yet  it  has 
been  asserted  that  Richelieu  had  so  thoroughly 
contracted  this  habit  that  he  could  never  entirely 
divest  himself  of  it --the  badaud  would  peep  out, 
and  often  when  least  desired. 


CHAPTER   IX. 


Une  Negligee.  —  Louis  XV.  —  The  Financier's  Wife.  —  A  Fash- 
ionable Financier.  —  The  Vicomte  and  Vicomtesse  de  F 


—  John  Law.  —  La  Banque  du  Roi.  —  The  Mississippi  Com- 
pany. —  The  Rue  Quincampoix.  —  Cupidity  and  Despair.  — 
Grand  Hotels  and  Opera  Boxes.  —  The  Courtiers  Pay  Their 
Debts. —  The  "Regent"  and  the  "Sancy."  —  The  First 
Blow  to  the  Systeme. —  Deceived  and  Ruined. —  Law  Fs- 
capes  to  Flanders.  —  A  Change  from  Paris  to  Brussels. — 
Order  Out  of  Disorder. 

[N  a  splendidly  furnished  apartment  in 
one  of  the  hotels  of  the  Place  Vendome 
sit  a  lady  and  gentleman,  taking  their 
morning  meal — a  substantial  repast,  less  of  a 
French  than  a  Scotch  breakfast.  The  now  fash- 
ionable coffee-pot  is  there,  prominently  in  the 
centre  of  the  table.  The  Parisians  have  been  a 
long  time  making  up  their  minds  whether  to 
accept  or  reject  coffee.  Rut  merit  has  prevailed 
over  prejudice.  The  Vicomte  de  Bechamel,  the 
regent's  maitre  (V hotel,  has  already  placed  on  his 
menus,  cafe  noir,  en  petites  tasses,  for  Palais  Royal 
dinners.  The  ladies  have  also  discovered  that  it 
is  excellent  an  lait,  and  are  falling  into  the  habit 
of  sipping  their  cup  of  coffee  in  the  morning. 
Madame    de     Sevigne,    therefore,    in    her    double 

95 


g6  THE    OLD   REGIME 

prediction  that  both  coffee  and  the  plays  of  Racine 
were  destined  to  pass  out  of  favour  after  a  very 
short  reign,  has  proved  a  false  prophetess. 

But  the  lady  and  gentleman  have  finished  their 
breakfast.  The  lady  wears  an  elaborately  em- 
broidered negligee  of  Indian  muslin,  with  falbalas 
of  fine  lace,  the  finest  that  Valenciennes  can  pro- 
duce. It  is  looped  up  with  rose-coloured  ribands  ; 
the  white  silk  petticoat  has  a  broad  border  of 
rose  colour ;  the  dress,  a  long  flowing  sash  of  the 
same  ;  and  the  whole  is  displayed  over  a  punier  of 
ample  size.  She  has  a  mouclie  on  the  left  cheek, 
another  on  her  chin,  and  a  third  on  the  right 
temple  —  those  little  black  patches,  you  know, 
that  the  Duchesse  du  Maine  has  just  brought  into 
vogue  again.  There  is  a  soupqon  of  powder  in 
her  hair ;  her  coiffe  is  of  fine  lace,  with  rose-col- 
oured silk  lappets ;  her  mitaincs  are  lace,  and  her 
high-heeled  slippers  rose-coloured  silk,  embroid- 
ered in  white  and  frilled  with  Valenciennes. 

The  lady  is  by  no  means  the  grande  dame  one 
might  suppose  her  to  be,  though  she  is  accus- 
tomed to  give  herself  very  grand  airs.  Her 
elegant  toilettes,  luxurious  surroundings,  her  half- 
dozen  chateaux,  comtes,  and  marquisates,  have  all 
been  so  recently  showered  upon  her,  that  she  still 
is  not  perfectly  at  ease  under  them.  To  be  borne 
with  dignity,  these  things  need  "the  aid  of  use," 
as  Shakespeare  says  of  "  our  new  clothes,  that 
cleave    not    to    their    mould    without."     Yet    her 


THE   FINANCIER'S    WIFE  97 

salon  is  frequented  by  marquises  ct  duchesses,  and 
other  grandes  dames.  Even  princesses  have  been 
known  to  waive  etiquette  and  peep  in  for  a 
moment.  If  she  does  not  exactly  look  down  on 
her  high  and  mighty  guests,  she  contrives  to  com- 
port herself  stiffly  enough  towards  them.  She 
has  been  made  to  feel,  and  still  resents  it,  that 
the  attraction  lies  not  in  her,  but  in  the  wizard 
powers  of  her  husband  ;  that  if  these  grandes  dames 
visit  her  in  the  evening,  it  is  because  he  would  not 
grant  them  a  five  minutes'  interview  in  his  private 
bureau  in  the  morning,  and  that  there  is  just  a 
chance  of  whispering  a  word  in  his  ear  in  her 
salon.  She  is  to  them  but  a  solitary  cipher, 
adding  nothing  whatever  to  the  weight  and  influ- 
ence of  the  substantial  qualities  attributed  to  him. 
Yet  her  superb  diamonds,  laces,  and  toilettes  gener- 
ally often  raise  sighs  of  envy,  and  win  her  many 
gracious  words  and  smiles. 

The  gentleman  so  courted  and  run  after  by  the 
ladies,  as  far  as  being  bewigged  and  beruffled,  and 
wearing  a  sword  at  his  side,  looks  like  a  grandee 
of  the  period.  Had  the  time  referred  to  been 
but  a  century  nearer  to  us,  one  might,  after  scru- 
tinizing his  countenance,  have  guessed  him  to  be 
an  American  cousin.  His  face  is  so  "  cute," 
shrewd,  and  clever ;  but  less  intellectual  than 
cunning.  There  is  now  a  shade  of  anxiety  upon 
it,  which  is  remarkable,  as  contrasting  strangely 
with   the  air   of  audacity  and  perfect  self-posses- 


98  THE    OLD   REGIME 

sion  it  usually  wears.  The  lady,  too,  seems 
troubled  and  thoughtful,  as  she  abstractedly  opens 
and  shuts  and  twirls  her  exquisite  Watteau  fan. 
One  trembles  for  the  safety  of  those  pretty 
bcrgcrcs,  so  delicately  painted  on  silk,  with  their  lily 
complexions,  their  rosebud  mouths,  charming  Swiss 
hats  and  costumes  garlanded  with  flowers.  But 
the  reverie  is  ended  by  the  entrance  of  a  servant. 

Is  this  man  a  servant  ?  He  enters  with  a  very 
swaggering  air.  There  is  a  trace  of  servitude  — 
that  is  of  livery  —  in  his  dress,  for  he  wears  a  red 
waistcoat ;  though,  for  the  rest  he  has  donned  the 
garb  of  the  haute  bourgeoisie. 

"  Monsieur,"  he  says,  "  I  leave  your  service 
to-day.     That  arrangement   I  mentioned  with  the 

Vicomte  de  F is  settled,  signed  and  sealed, 

and  the  price  is  paid  in  actions  de  banque  of  your 
last  issue.  But  that  you  may  not  be  incon- 
venienced by  the  dearth  of  serving-men,  I  have 
brought  here  two  who  are  willing  to  succeed  to 
my  place.  They  wait  outside  your  good  pleasure 
to  see  them." 

"Can  they  drive  well,  Joseph?"  inquires  the 
master. 

"They  can  both  drive  so  well,  monsieur,  that 
whichever  of  the  two  you  may  reject,  I  shall  take 
into  my  own  service." 

"And  Annette?"  says  the  lady  inquiringly, 
referring  to  her  waiting-maid,  who  is  the  coach- 
man's wife, 


JOHN  LA  IV  99 

"Annette,  madame,  also  leaves  you  to-day. 
She  is  now  engaging  her  femme  de  chambre ;  and 
should  Joseph  and  Annette  be  wanted  to-morrow, 
they  must  be  inquired  for  at  their  hotel,  as  the 

Vicomte  and  Vicomtesse  de  F ,  for  the  title 

goes  with  the  estates." 

The  lady  shrugs  her  shoulders  impatiently. 
The  gentleman  cannot  forbear  a  smile.  This 
transformation  of  his  coachman  into  a  vicomte  is 
his  own  work,  and  the  change  in  his  own  social 
position  is  scarcely  less  great.  But  his  influence 
is  on  the  wane,  and  a  crash  is  at  hand. 

He  is  the  famous  Scotch  banker,  John  Law, 
who,  as  Montesquieu  says,  "turned  the  State  in- 
side out ; "  who  made  France,  as  it  were,  one 
vast  gambling-house;  who  demoralized  society, 
by  awakening  feelings  of  cupidity,  unknown  to  it 
before  his  chimerical  system  gave  rise  to  that 
mania  for  reckless  speculation. 

"  Dcpuis  le  plus  bas  peuple"  says  Voltaire, 
"  jusqu  aux  magistrals,  aux  evequcs,  ct  aiix  prin- 
ces, la  cupidite  qu'il  revcilla  dans  tontcs  les  condi- 
tions, detourna  tons  les  esprits  dc  ionic  attention 
an  bicu  public,  ct  dc  toJitc  vuc  politique  ct  ambi- 
ticuse,  en  les  rcniplissant  de  la  crainte  dc  perdre 
et  de  I'avidite'  dc  gagner." 

Law  was  a  scheming,  calculating  man,  who 
in  these  days  would  probably  be  called  a  "  pro- 
moter;" but  that  modern  term  for  the  successful 
getters-up   of    bubble   projects   was    not   then   in- 


IOO  THE    OLD   REGIME 

vented,  and  he  was  regarded  as  a  clever  financier. 
A  fugitive  from  England  for  some  misdemeanour, 
as  soon  as  he  had  crossed  the  Channel,  he  became 
a  Roman  Catholic,  obtained  letters  of  naturaliza- 
tion and  permission  to  establish  a  bank.  It  was 
at  first  of  very  moderate  pretensions.  But  a 
flattering  prospectus  invited  depositors,  and  its 
notes  got  well  into  circulation.  The  State  was 
then  burdened  with  debt,  and  the  regent  was  at 
his  wits'  end  for  money  —  both  for  his  own  private 
uses,  and  for  carrying  on  the  government.  It  was 
in  vain  that  he  taxed  his  brain  for  new  sources  of 
income.  It  proved  so  unprofitable  an  article  of 
taxation  that  it  afforded  him  nothing  but  the 
barren  suggestion  of  giving  to  specie  a  threefold 
nominal  value.  At  this  crisis  Law  presented  his 
project  for  paying  off  the  debt  of  the  nation.  It 
was  submitted  to  the  former  Controleur-general, 
Nicholas  Desmarets,  nephew  of  the  great  Colbert, 
and  favourably  known  for  his  zeal  and  intelligence 
in  averting  financial  difficulties  during  the  last 
years  of  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.  He  entirely 
disapproved  Law's  scheme.  Nevertheless,  the  re- 
gent accepted  it.  He  liked  its  novelty.  Better 
still,  he  liked  the  certainty,  as  explained  to  him 
more  minutely  by  Law,  of  its  drawing  forth  all  the 
hoarded-up  cash  in  the  country,  in  exchange  for 
actions  dc  la  "  Banque  du  Roi,"  as  Law's  bank 
was  henceforth  to  be  called. 

Without  attempting  to  detail  the  mode  of  oper- 


THE   MISSISSIPPI   COMPANY  IOI 

ation  in  this  famous  "Systeme  Law" — of  which 
an  explanation,  more  or  less  clear,  is  to  be  found 
in  every  history  of  France  —  it  may  be  mentioned 
that  there  was  established,  in  connection  with  the 
Royal  Bank,  a  "  Compagnie  de  Commerce  d'Occi- 
dent,"  which  was  guaranteed  to  realize  fabulous 
profits  by  trading  in  the  Mississippi,  colonizing 
Louisiana,  and  developing  its  rich  mineral  re- 
sources. Of  the  Mississippi  few  knew  more  than 
that  it  was  reported  to  be  a  mine  of  wealth.  This 
company  was  about  as  substantial  as  its  bubble 
contemporary,  the  South  Sea  Company.  But  the 
fever  of  speculation,  excited  by  the  desire  to  secure 
a  share  of  the  imaginary  boundless  riches  that 
were  promised  to  France,  gave  rise  to  scenes  in 
the  Rue  Ouincampoix,  where  the  company  had  its 
offices,  that  exceeded  in  tumultuousness  those 
of  Change  Alley  and  Threadneedle  Street.  Daily, 
from  early  dawn,  crowds  of  eager  men  and  women 
assembled  in  that  long,  narrow,  grimy  street,  wait- 
ing for  the  opening  of  the  bureau.  As  the  hour 
drew  on,  the  throng  still  increased,  all  struggling 
to  get  nearer  the  door.  Pressing  upon  each 
other,  some  fainted,  others  fell,  and,  crushed  or 
trampled  upon,  were  carried  away  dead. 

This  Rue  Ouincampoix  was  the  principal  stock- 
jobbing rendezvous ;  and  as  the  whole  of  the 
Parisian  population  had  become  stock-jobbers,  it 
was  a  very  animated  part  of  the  city.  "There 
was  no  longer  either  business  or  society  in   Paris," 


LIBRARY 

TTNTVE^ r:1  n'V  OF  C  * T  TVORNIA 
SANTA  BARBARA 


102  THE    OLD   REGIME 

says  a  French  writer.  "  The  workman,  the  trades- 
man, the  magistrate,  the  man  of  letters,  concerned 
themselves  only  with  the  rise  and  fall  in  actions ; 
the  news  of  the  clay  being  their  losses  and  gains. 
Nowhere  was  there  any  other  subject  of  conversa- 
tion, or  any  other  gambling  than  gambling  in  ac- 
tions." Enormous  fortunes  were  made  so  rapidly 
that  a  frenzy  for  acquiring  wealth,  difficult  to 
describe,  took  possession  of  every  one's  mind. 
Many  who  began  their  speculations  with  a  single 
billet  d'etat  of  five  hundred  francs,  by  taking 
advantage  of  the  constant  fluctuation  in  the  value 
of  specie,  actions  de  banque,  billets  d'etat,  etc.,  in 
the  space  of  a  few  weeks  were  the  possessors  of 
millions.  "  Servants  who  came  to  Paris  at  the 
beginning  of  the  week  behind  the  carriages  of 
their  masters,  often,  through  some  lucky  venture, 
went  home  at  the  end  of  it  in  carriages  of  their 
own."  Law's  coachman  was  not  a  solitary  instance 
of  this  kind,  but  one  among  many. 

On  the  other  hand,  no  less  frequently,  wealthy 
families  were  suddenly  reduced  to  beggary.  And 
suicides,  assassinations,  and  the  many  crimes  born 
of  cupidity  and  despair,  were  of  daily  occurrence. 
The  relative  value  of  actions  dc  banque,  specie, 
and  billets  d'etat  often  rose  and  fell  several  times 
in  the  course  of  the  day.  This  was  regulated  solely 
by  Law,  attentive  only  to  keep  up  the  speculative 
fever  he  had  created,  and  to  draw  in  the  cash  while 
continuing  to  issue  new  paper.     Of  this  the  amount 


CUPIDITY  AND    DESPAIR  1 03 

in  circulation  represented  more  than  eighty  times 
the  value  of  all  the  specie  in  the  kingdom. 

At  the  same  time,  never  had  there  been  known 
such  profusion  and  extravagance  in  dress,  in  furni- 
ture, in  equipages,  banquets,  and  fetes,  as  prevailed 
in  Paris  at  this  period.  For  it  was  not  only  the 
sumptuous  entertainments  given  by  the  regent  and 
the  court  circle  —  surpassing  all  that  had  been 
dreamed  of  in  the  beaux  jours  of  Louis  XIV.- 
that  astonished  the  few  persons  who  were  staid 
and  sedate,  or  that  yet  remained  of  the  old  school. 
It  was  the  lavish  style  of  living  of  those  who  had 
suddenly  grown  rich  ;  often  persons  of  the  lowest 
class,  yet  who  could  find  amongst  the  most  splen- 
did hotels  of  the  old  nobility  no  dwelling  sufficiently 
magnificent  for  them.  In  this  way  some  fine  spec- 
imens of  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  century  archi- 
tecture disappeared,  to  make  way  for  new  edifices, 
often  never  begun.  For  before  the  ground  was 
cleared,  the  wealthy  parvenu,  who  had  "dreamt  of 
dwelling  in  marble  halls,"  had  been  driven  back, 
by  a  turn  of  Fortune's  wheel,  to  his  grabat  in  the 
cave  or  mansarde ;  or,  if  begun,  the  building  was 
usually  completed  on  a  scale  very  inferior  in 
grandeur  and  extent  to  that  first  proposed. 

The  theatres  had  their  full  share  of  this  rich 
harvest  of  paper.  Never,  at  the  Italiens  or  the 
Theatre  Francois,  had  there  been  witnessed  a  more 
splendid  array  of  toilettes,  or  a  more  brilliant  dis- 
play of  diamonds  and  other  jewels   than   nightly 


104  THE    OLD   REGIME 

might  then  have  been  seen  there.  There  was  as 
eager  a  competition  for  the  possession  of  an  opera 
box  as  for  a  share  in  the  Mississippi  Company, 
with  this  disadvantage  to  the  manager  —  that  he 
could  not  multiply  his  boxes,  as  Law  did  his  shares, 
at  pleasure.  The  renter  of  an  opera  box  had  his 
arms  emblazoned  on  the  door.  The  herald-painter, 
not  too  rich  or  too  proud  to  work,  had  a  flourishing 
time  of  it  among  the  new  nobility.  For  all,  of 
course,  assumed  the  de,  and  generally  discovered 
they  had  a  right  to  it ;  unknown  survivors  of  noble 
families  supposed  to  be  extinct  being  found  to  be 
wondrously  numerous. 

So  long  as  the  Royal  Bank  commanded  confi- 
dence, and  its  notes  circulated  freely,  the  reckless 
style  of  living,  and  the  feverish  pursuit  of  pleasure 
it  had  induced,  went  on  unabated.  Those  who,  at 
the  flood-tide  of  fortune,  had  exchanged  their  bank 
paper  for  substantial  possessions,  of  course  re- 
mained rich.  While  those  who  had  sold  to  obtain 
this  much-coveted  paper,  looking  for  enormous 
dividends,  when  the  gold-laden  galleons  should 
bring  the  treasures  of  Louisiana  to  France,  sank 
into  hopeless  poverty  ;  whose  end  was  often  mad- 
ness or  crime.  Rolls  of  the  Royal  bank-notes,  as 
many  as  they  needed,  were  supplied  to  the  regent 
and  the  grandees  of  the  court.  With  these  they 
followed  in  extravagance  the  example  of  the  par- 
venus, and  also  took  the  opportunity  of  paying 
their  debts. 


THE   "REGENT"   AND    THE  "SANCY"      105 

It  was  at  this  time  that,  as  advised  by  Saint- 
Simon,  the  famous  diamond,  known  as  the  "  Re- 
gent," was  bought.  The  man,  in  whose  possession 
it  was,  had  been  employed  as  overlooker  in  the 
Golconda  mines.  Contriving  to  secrete  this  fine 
stone  and  to  leave  his  occupation  unsuspected,  he 
came  to  Europe  and  offered  his  diamond  for  sale, 
without  success,  at  every  European  court.  Arriv- 
ing in  France,  he  sought  out  Law,  who  took  the 
diamond  to  the  regent,  and  proposed  to  him  to 
purchase  it  for  the  king.  The  price,  three  millions 
of  francs  in  hard  cash,  induced  him  to  decline. 
But  at  the  suggestion  of  Saint-Simon,  Law  was 
authorized  to  endeavour  to  make  some  arrange- 
ment with  the  owner  for  a  lower  sum.  Two  mil- 
lions was  the  price  for  which  he  at  last  consented 
to  part  with  it.  But  as  immediate  payment  was 
not  convenient,  a  certain  delay  was  conceded,  and 
the  interest  for  that  time  on  the  sum  agreed  upon 
was  at  once  handed  to  him  ;  while,  as  security  for 
the  payment  of  the  two  millions,  crown  jewels  to 
the  value  of  eight  millions  were  deposited  in  his 
hands.* 

*  The  "  Regent "  is  considered  a  much  finer  stone  than  the 
Sancy,  which  was  bought  from  a  Swiss  for  an  ecu,  or  three  francs, 
by  the  Duke  of  Burgundy,  some  time  during  the  fifteenth  century. 
After  passing  through  several  hands  it  came  into  the  possession 
of  Harlay-de-Sancy  as  security  for  40,000  francs  lent  to  Dom 
Antonio  of  Portugal,  who  afterwards  sold  it  to  Sancy  for  a  fur- 
ther advance  of  60,000  francs.  Sancy  disposed  of  it  to  James,  of 
England,  through  whom  it  came  into  the  possession  of  Louis  X  IV. 


106  THE    OLD   REGIME 

This  great  embezzlement  scheme  had,  up  to 
this  time,  satisfied  those  who  profited  by  it.  The 
regent  heaped  honours,  titles,  and  estates  upon 
Law  ;  made  him  Conseiller  d'etat  and  Controleur- 
general  des  finances  ;  though  while  enriching  oth- 
ers, he  had  not  forgotten  his  own  private  interests. 
But  the  first  blow  to  the  "  systeme  "  was  about  to 
be  struck.  Just,  too,  when  Monsieur  and  Madame 
de  Law,  finding  the  hotel  in  the  Place  Vendome 
an  unsuitable  residence,  were  in  treaty  for  that 
more  commodious  one,  the  splendid  Hotel  Sois- 
sons.  The  offices  of  the  Royal  Bank  were  estab- 
lished in  the  rez-dc-cJiausscc  of  the  Hotel  Vendome. 
There,  speculating  ladies  intruded  on  Law  at  all 
hours  —  seeking  advice  as  to  the  expediency  of 
buying  or  selling  in  the  course  of  the  day  —  and 
sometimes,  Mdmes.  de  Parabere  and  de  Tencin, 
for  instance,  taking  away  a  bundle  of  notes  with 
them  ;  notes  that  might  have  been  issued  from 
any  printing  house,  as  no  precautions  whatever 
were  taken  against  forgery. 

The  scarcity  of  specie  -  -  all  pensions  and  sala- 
ries being  also  paid  in  paper  —  began  to  be  felt  as 
an  extreme  inconvenience.  It  even  raised  suspi- 
cions in  some  minds.  A  considerable  quantity  of 
paper  was  in  consequence  presented  at  the  bank, 
and  cash  requested.  The  next  clay  appeared  an 
edict  prohibiting  the  conversion  of  the  billets  into 
specie,  also  forbidding  all  persons  to  retain  pos- 
session of  more  than  five  hundred  francs  in  cash. 


flDafcame  fcc  parabere 


LAW  ESCATES    TO   FLANDERS  107 

This  created  a  panic.  The  Parliament  remon- 
strated, and  refused  to  register  the  edict.  Law 
complained  to  the  regent,  and  the  Parliament  was 
banished  to  Pontoise.  New  paper  was  issued,  but 
could  not  be  put  into  circulation.  For  the  eyes  of 
most  persons  began  to  open  to  the  fact  that  they 
had  been  deceived  and  ruined.  Numberless  were 
the  expedients  resorted  to  by  Law  to  restore  the 
credit  of  the  now  decried  paper  ;  but  none  of  them 
availed. 

The  people  thronged  the  Place  Vendome,  and 
threatened  to  attack  the  bank.  Law  took  refuge 
in  the  Palais  Royal.  "  Where/'  says  Voltaire,  "  I 
had  formerly  seen  him  enter  the  saloon,  followed 
by  dukes  and  peers  of  the  realm ;  by  Marechaux 
de  France  and  high  dignitaries  of  the  Church." 
Now,  humiliated  and  crestfallen,  he  seeks  the  pro- 
tection of  the  regent,  at  whose  hands  the  people 
without  are  demanding  the  man  who  has  brought 
ruin  on  the  nation.  The  turbulence  of  passion  is 
at  its  height.  But  the  regent,  who  is  more  guilty 
than  Law,  favours  his  escape  to  Flanders.  The 
Due  de  Bourbon-Conde  lends  him  his  chaise  de 
postc  for  a  part  of  his  journey  —  he  could  hardly 
do  less  for  the  man  who  had  enriched  him  by  so 
many  millions.  For,  with  the  exception  of  a  few 
obscure  persons  who  made  and  retained  a  fortune, 
it  was  the  regent  and  the  court  who  were  the 
gainers.  The  great  wealth  of  several  princely  and 
noble  houses  dates  from  that  time. 


IOS  THE    OLD   REGIME 

In  being  thus,  suddenly  and  wholly  unprepared, 
compelled  to  quit  Paris,  Law  was  unable  to  realize 
his  colossal  fortune,  which  consisted  chiefly  in 
extensive  landed  estates.  Two  thousand  louts,  and 
a  few  of  his  wife's  jewels,  were  said  to  be  all  he 
took  from  France  with  him.  He  passed  over  to 
Kngland,  where  it  was  asserted,  but  with  little 
foundation,  that  he  had  large  sums  of  money  in- 
vested. From  London  he  went  to  Venice,  schemed 
and  speculated,  but  without  success,  and  died  there 
in  1729,  in  circumstances  that  did  not  denote 
the  possession  of  much  wealth.  "  His  widow," 
writes  Voltaire,  "  I  saw  while  I  was  in  Brussels. 
She  was  as  humble  there  as  she  had  been  haughty 
and  triumphant  in  Paris."  Such  was  the  denoue- 
ment of  what  the  French,  with  their  accustomed 
levity,  were  pleased  to  call  "  La  Comedie  de  Law." 

The  State  was  more  in  debt  than  before.  "  Some 
swindlers,"  writes  Duclos,  "  of  the  upper  and  lower 
classes  had  grown  rich.  The  bourgeoisie  was 
ruined  :  every  one  was  dissatisfied  with  his  posi- 
tion, and  commercial  morality  was  at  an  end."  To 
add  to  the  general  distress,  inundations  and  exten- 
sive fires  ravaged  several  of  the  French  provinces, 
and  Marseilles  was  nearly  depopulated  by  the  ex- 
cessive virulence  of  the  plague. 

It  was  absolutely  necessary  to  devise  without 
delay  some  means  for  alleviating  the  wide-spread 
misery  brought  on  the  country  by  the  exploded 
"  Systeme  Law."     This  difficult  financial  operation 


ORDER    OUT  OF  DISORDER  IO9 

was  undertaken  by  the  Brothers  Paris,  bankers, 
who  had  been  opponents  of  Law's  system  from  its 
outset.  By  their  great  financial  ability  and  untir- 
ing zeal,  they  at  length  succeeded  in  evoking 
some  sort  of  order  out  of  disorder ;  and  in  effect- 
ing an  arrangement,  which,  if  it  failed  to  meet  all 
ills  resulting  from  the  Systeme,  secured  at  least 
the  eventual  payment  of  the  debts  of  the  state. 


CHAPTER    X. 

Death  of  Madame  de  Maintenon.  —  The  Czar's  Visit  to  St.  Cyr. 

—  A  Complimentary  Salutation.  —  The  Czar  Peter  in  Paris. 

—  Thirst  for  Useful  Knowledge.  —  Special  "  Interviewing." 

—  The  Invitation  to  the  Ball.  —  Effect  of  Peter's  Visit  to 
Paris.  —  Madame  de  Caylus.  —  Palais  Royal  Banquets.  — 
Bechamel,  Marin,  Soubise.  —  Supper  after  the  Opera. — 
Fashions  of  the  Period.  —  The  Ladies'  Toilettes.  —  Les 
Belles  Dames  at  Supper.  —  An  Example  to  the  Czar. 

iHILE  the  events  just  referred  to  were 
occurring  in  France,  there  died  at  St. 
Cyr,  in  1 719,  the  widow  of  the  poor 
ribald  poet,  Scarron,  and  of  the  great  Louis  XIV. 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  then  in  her  eighty-fourth 
year,  passed  away  calmly  and  with  little  bodily 
suffering.  Sight  and  hearing  remained  with  her 
to  the  last,  and  her  mental  faculties  were  wholly 
unimpaired.  To  within  a  few  days  of  her  death, 
she  regularly  corresponded  with  her  nieces,  and 
with  many  old  friends  of  the  vieille  cour;  and  her 
letters  are  not  only  remarkably  chatty  and  cheer- 
ful, but  often  trh  spirituelles. 

The  supersedure  of  the  will  of  the  late  king, 
and  more  especially  the  malignant  hate  with  which 
the  Due  du  Maine  was  pursued  by  the  regent  and 
the  Due  de  Bourbon,  affected  her  deeply.      Other- 
no 


THE    CZAR'S    VISIT    TO   ST    CYR  III 

wise  she  might  have  continued  to  live  on  for  some 
years ;  though  she  confessed  to  finding  her  seclu- 
sion a  weariness.  It  would  have  gratified  her,  she 
wrote,  could  she  consistently  have  done  so,  to 
have  enjoyed  more  of  the  society  of  those  who 
understood  better  than  the  good  sisters  who  pre- 
sided at  St.  Cyr  the  feelings  and  ideas  of  one  who 
had  passed  so  much  of  her  life  in  the  grand 
monde.  But  as  time  went  on  she  resigned  herself 
to  that.  Her  death-blow,  no  doubt,  was  the  arrest 
and  imprisonment  of  the  Due  du  Maine.  She 
was  so  devotedly  attached  to  him,  that  anxiety 
for  his  safety  made  her  augur  the  worst.  "  His 
goodness  and  piety,  and  his  having  been  the  fa- 
vourite son  of  a  great  king,  were  his  only  crimes," 
she  said;  "crimes  which  his  enemies  could  not 
forgive  him."  She  did  not  live  to  hear  of  his 
release,  and  his  acquittal  of  all  complicity  in  his 
wife's  political  intrigues. 

The  Czar  Peter  the  Great  visited  Paris  shortly 
before  Madame  de  Maintenon's  death.  He  had  a 
desire  to  see  the  woman  who,  in  the  decline  of 
life,  had  captivated  the  Grand  Monarque,  and 
whose  secret  counsels  so  largely  influenced  the 
affairs  of  Europe  for  full  thirty  years.  Madame 
de  Maintenon  consented  to  receive  him.  An 
anteroom  and  two  salons,  draped  with  black,  as 
was  customary  for  royal  mourning,  led  to  her 
chamber,  the  hangings  and  furniture  of  which 
were  of  crimson  silk  damask.     She  was  reclining 


112  THE    OLD   REGIME 

on  her  couch,  supported  by  pillows.  Two  ladies 
of  the  establishment  were  seated  near  her.  Her 
dress  was  a  Hongreline,  or  long  jacket  of  grey- 
velvet,  and  a  flat,  plaited  lace  cap,  under  a  black 
silk  coiffe.  Over  her  was  spread  an  ermine  cover- 
let ;  which  may  have  been  intended  to  indicate  roy- 
alty, like  the  ermine  mantle  thrown  over  her  when 
her  portrait  was  painted  by  order  of  Louis  XIV. 

Describing  the  interview  herself,  she  says  she 
received  the  Czar,  after  the  Marechal  de  Villeroi, 
who  introduced  him,  had  left  the  room,  without 
any  further  ceremony  than  that  of  taking  off  her 
black  silk  mitaines ;  this  being  the  etiquette  of 
the  period,  when  in  the  presence  of  a  person  of 
superior  rank. 

The  Czar,  on  entering,  paid  her  a  similar  com- 
pliment, in  the  Russian  mode  of  salutation.  He 
closed  his  eyes,  and,  with  his  arms  hanging 
straight  by  his  side,  slowly  bent  his  body  until 
the  tips  of  his  fingers  touched  the  floor;  then,  as 
slowly,  resumed  his  upright  position.  He  seated 
himself  in  the  large  arm-chair  of  crimson  and  gold 
brocade,  arranged  for  him  by  the  side  of  the  aged 
invalid's  couch,  and  silently  gazed  on  her  so 
earnestly,  that,  as  she  tells  Madame  de  Caylus, 
she  could  scarcely  forbear  a  smile.  But  as  in  that 
position  he  obtained  only  a  side  view  of  her,  he 
wheeled  round  the  massive  arm-chair  with  a 
fracas  that  was  perfectly  startling,  and  looked 
her  straight  in  the  face. 


THE    CZAR  PETER   IN  PARIS  I  I  3 

He  could,  had  he  chosen,  have  made  himself 
well  understood  in  French.  But  it  was  his  good 
pleasure  to  use  the  Russian  tongue  ;  his  ambassa- 
dor, who  accompanied  him,  serving  as  interpreter. 
He  was,  however,  so  ill-qualified  for  the  office, 
that  Madame  de  Maintenon  understood  little  more 
than  that  all  the  Czar  had  seen  at  St.  Cyr  pleased 
him  well,  and  that  he  proposed  to  found  at  St. 
Petersburg  a  similar  establishment.  She  replied 
by  a  flattering  eloge  of  the  late  king.  To  which 
the  Czar  listened  with  profound  attention.  He 
then  took  leave  with  the  same  formal  salam ; 
she  half  raising  herself  on  her  couch  to  acknowl- 
edge it. 

The  habits  and  tastes  of  the  great  Peter  were 
but  little  in  accordance  with  those  of  la  haute 
societe  francaise.  He  was  very  differently  im- 
pressed, from  what  was  expected,  by  the  fetes 
prepared  for  his  entertainment.  But  what  he 
sought  out  for  his  own  amusement,  as  well  as 
instruction,  and  which  scarcely  any  one  thought 
of  showing  him,  interested  him  greatly.  He  par- 
ticularly admired  the  mausoleum  of  the  great 
cardinal,  in  the  Sorbonne.  But  it  was  rather 
admiration  of  the  stern,  inflexible  will  of  the  man 
whose  ashes  reposed  beneath  it  than  of  the  skill 
of  the  artist  in  the  execution  of  the  monument. 
The  splendours  of  the  Hotel  Lesdiguieres  were 
scarcely  of  a  kind  to  be  appreciated  by  him ; 
though  on  his  return  to  his  own  capital  he  insti- 


I  14  THE    OLD   REGIME 

tuted  changes  in  his  palace  and  in  the  toilette  of 
his  belle  Catherine,  which  led  to  the  taste  for 
luxury  and  magnificence,  at  first  rather  barbaric, 
that  developed  itself  at  the  Russian  court  so 
speedily  after  his  death. 

The  Marquis  de  Tesse  played  the  host  at  the 
Hotel  Lesdiguieres.  The  Marquis  de  Nesle  and 
Due  de  Villeroi  were  appointed  to  meet  the  Czar 
on  the  frontier  with  a  suitable  escort.  The  num- 
ber of  elaborately  embroidered  coats,  and  uniforms 
covered  with  gold  and  silver  lace,  they  thought  it 
necessary  to  take  with  them  to  do  honour  to  the 
Russian  despot,  excited  his  ridicule,  as  by  degrees 
they  displayed  their  ample  wardrobe.  Each  morn- 
ing, each  evening,  a  new  costume,  while  the  Czar 
keeps  to  his  one  plain  suit  of  heavy  blue  cloth, 
and  laughingly  inquires  why  these  French  gentle- 
men employ  so  bad  a  tailor,  as  apparently  he 
cannot  supply  a  coat  that  pleases  well  enough 
to  be  worn  a  second  time.  Yet  the  example  of 
those  about  him  so  far  influenced  the  great  Peter 
in  the  matter  of  personal  adornment  that  he 
provided  himself  with  a  handsomely  embroidered 
blue  satin  coat.  Probably  he  first  appeared  in  it 
at  some  Parisian  fete.  History  has,  however, 
overlooked  that  fact,  if  fact  it  be,  or  has  not 
thought  it  worthy  of  being  handed  down  to 
posterity. 

The  bump  of  inquisitiveness,  so  characteris- 
tic, in  its  largeness  of  development,  of  the  Anglo- 


SPECIAL    "  INTERVIE  WING  "  I  I  5 

Saxon  race  of  the  nineteenth  century,  could 
scarcely  have  had  a  place  at  all  in  the  cranium  of 
the  folk  of  the  early  part  of  the  eighteenth.  Had 
the  same  thirst  for  useful  knowledge  existed  then 
as  now,  there  doubtless  would  have  been  the  same 
endeavour  to  slake  it.  The  most  persevering  and 
keen-eyed  on  the  staff  of  "our  own"  would  have 
been  specially  commissioned  "to  interview,"  no- 
lens volens,  the  great  Russian  bear.  Prying  eyes 
would  have  found  out  for  us,  together  with  a 
hundred  other  interesting  minutiae,  whether  Peter 
took  a  bath  and  put  on  a  fine  linen  chemise  before 
donning  his  blue  satin  coat,  or  whether  the  rough 
monster  had  so  little  sense  of  harmony  and  beauty 
and  the  fitness  of  things  as,  with  unwashed  hands, 
to  slip  it  on  over  a  "false  front,"  hiding  a  red  or 
blue  Jersey  shirt.  Compared  with  the  seventeenth 
century,  French  memoir  writers  are  few  in  the 
eighteenth.  How  invaluable,  then,  would  the 
gatherings  and  scrapings  of  a  special  interviewer 
have  proved  at  this  date ;  one  restrained  by  no 
feelings  of  false  delicacy  from  turning  his  subject 
inside  out,  and  doing  his  duty  to  his  public,  by 
telling  us  all  things.  It  is  comforting  to  know 
that  the  unborn  generation  will  have  scant  reason 
to  reproach  the  present  one  for  any  reticence  of 
that  sort. 

But  to  return  for  a  moment  to  the  blue  satin 
coat.  We  know  that  it  was  worn  on  that  grand 
and   memorable   occasion,   which    may   be   termed 


I  1 6  THE    OLD   REGIME 

the    virtual    emancipation    of    woman    in    Russia. 
The  issuing  of  the  Ukase,  commanding  the  nobles 
and  court  officials,  and  all  who  held  any  appoint- 
ment, civil  or  military,  to  come  to  a  ball  at  his 
palace,  and  to  bring  with  them  their  wives  and 
daughters  —  poor,  oppressed  women,  who,  hitherto, 
had  lived  in  seclusion  under  the  iron  rule  of  their 
masters  —  was  a  very  happy  stroke  of  despotism. 
Many,  among  the  great  army  of  saints  enrolled  in 
the  Holy  Calendar,  have  been  canonized   for  far 
less  deserving  deeds.     To  those  who  did  not  read- 
ily obey  the  command  of  the  Czar  —  and  some  few 
did  venture  to   evince  a  reluctance  to   let   loose 
their    womankind  —  Peter    despatched    a    second 
command,    accompanied    by    a    menace    of    the 
knout.      This    had,    of    course,    its    due    effect. 
Above   all,   the    company    was    bidden    to    come 
sober,  and  if  they  wore  swords  to  leave  them  at 
home,  as  all  would  be  required  to  dance.     To  set 
a  good  example,  Peter  and  Catherine,  very  praise- 
worthily,  made  a  point  of  taking  but  half  their 
usual    quantity    of    brandy    and    tokay    that    day. 
Good  manners  and  urbanity  therefore  prevailed; 
and  this  first  Russian  attempt  at  a  court  reunion 
passed  off  remarkably  well. 

Though  Peter's  object  in  visiting  foreign  coun- 
tries was  chiefly,  as  we  all  know,  to  obtain  further 
insight  into  whatever  was  likely  to  increase  the 
material  prosperity  of  his  own,  it  seems  evident 
that  he  was  not  an  unobservant  spectator  of  French 


EFFECT  OF  PETER'S    VISIT   TO   PARIS     \\J 

society,  or  of  woman's  influence  in  it.  His  visit  to 
Paris  led  to  many  social  changes  in  Russia.  It 
was  probably  the  cause  of  his  placing  Catherine  in 
a  more  prominent  and  influential  position  than  be- 
fore. It  is  remarkable  what  deference  this  man, 
so  rough  in  outward  demeanour,  so  innately  cruel, 
paid  to  the  lowly  born  woman  he  made  his  wife, 
elevated  to  a  throne  and  crowned  with  so  much 
pomp  and  ceremony.  Peter  certainly  took  a 
lesson  in  gallantry  while  in  France,  and  profited 
by  it. 

He  interested  himself  in  many  things  that  were 
attractive  to  him  from  their  novelty,  which  often 
consisted  only  in  a  refinement  he  was  wholly 
unused  to.  He  was  obliged  to  observe  some 
degree  of  moderation  in  his  habit  of  excessive 
drinking,  and  was  probably  all  the  better  for  it. 
The  little  king  pleased  and  amused  him,  though 
he  was  growing  up  a  silent,  self-willed  child ; 
petted  and  spoiled  by  his  elderly  guardians,  the 
Marechal  de  Villeroi,  and  the  Bishop  of  Frejus. 

But  among  ladies  who  chiefly  attracted  the 
Czar,  Madame  de  Caylus  obtained  his  highest 
admiration.  He  had  heard  of  the  beauty  of 
Madame  de  Maintenon's  charming  niece,  and  had 
been  very  desirous  of  seeing  her.  At  this  time 
she  was  no  longer  young.  She  had  passed  the 
terrible  qiiarantaine,  and  had  lived  in  seclusion  for 
some  years ;  but  during  the  regency  she  reap- 
peared  in   Parisian  society  —  according   to  Saint- 


I  1 8  THE    OLD   REGIME 

Simon  —  full  of  vivacity,  and  as  beautiful  and 
charmingly  seductive  as  ever.  She  bore  away  the 
palm  from  younger  beauties  —  the  frail  but  lovely 
Madame  de  Parabere,  and  the  fair  Haidee  (Mdlle. 
Aisse),  whose  history  is  so  like  a  romance. 

Louis  XIV.  disliked  Madame  de  Caylus.  She 
was  too  sparkling,  too  spirituelle  to  please  him. 
He  was  shocked  at  any  unexpected  sally  of  wit, 
as  at  "une  indecence"  and  the  youthful  marquise 
(she  was  married  at  thirteen)  frequently  sinned 
in  that  way.  More  than  all  she  inclined  towards 
Jansenism.  Even  her  aunt  could  not  overlook 
that ;  she  was,  therefore,  when  about  nineteen, 
banished  from  the  court  circle,  and  remained  four- 
teen years  in  disgrace.  During  that  time  she 
turned  very  seriously  to  devotion ;  fasted  and 
prayed,  and  became  gloomy,  under  the  spiritual 
direction  of  a  Jansenist  priest.  By-and-by  she 
grew  weary  of  so  joyless  a  life ;  abjured  Jansen- 
ism, and  took  a  Jesuit  father  for  her  confessor. 
This  restored  her  to  the  favour  of  Madame  de 
Maintenon,  who  then  pleaded  for  her  erring  niece 
with  the  king.  The  Grand  Monarquc,  pleased 
with  her  repentance,  not  only  vouchsafed  his 
pardon,  but  also  granted  an  increase  of  four  thou- 
sand francs  to  her  pension  of  six  thousand. 

Madame  de  Caylus  had  recently  become  a 
widow  —  a  circumstance  supposed  to  have  influ- 
enced the  change  in  her  religious  or  theological 
opinions.      But    whether     or    not,    the    prevailing 


PALAIS   ROYAL    BANQUETS  I  1 9 

libertinage  seems  to  have  had  some  effect  on  her, 
for  Saint-Simon,  her  great  admirer,  says  that 
both  Jansenists  and  Jesuits  were  objects  of  her 
plaisanteries.  "La  regencc  approcJiait,"  he  says, 
ltet  elle  y  preludait."  Yet  during  that  brilliant 
period  when  Law's  bank-notes  were  so  plentiful, 
and  the  Palais  Royal  entertainments  so  magnifi- 
cent, she  seems  to  have  been  doubtful  as  to  the 
propriety  of  joining  them.  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon  was  appealed  to.  She,  of  course,  did  not 
approve  the  regent's  dissolute  mode  of  life;  but 
with  reference  to  these  public  banquets,  she  re- 
plies :  "  II  faut  aller  au  Palais  Royal,  il  ne  faut 
pas  frontier  ccux  qui  out  Vautorite  en  main." 

Thus  sanctioned,  Madame  de  Caylus  could, 
without  scruple,  take  her  seat  with  other  ladies 
at  these  entertainments,  to  which  the  noblesse  and 
the  beau  monde  generally  were  invited.  She  even 
sometimes  presided,  "  comme  une  grace  7tn  pen 
vive;  comme  une  deessc  d' H ombre  ;  charmant  tons 
les  cceurs,  ct  faisant  tout  oublicr,  mane  rumour." 
The  regent  certainly  set  the  fashion  in  France  of 
good  cookery  and  extravagant  living.  The  menus 
of  the  celebrated  Vicomte  have  been  pronounced 
by  connoisseurs  in  gastronomy,  chefs-d'oeuvre  of 
their  kind  ;  while  sauce  a  la  Bechamel,  and  cham- 
pagne a  la  glace  are  still  as  much  in  favour  as 
when,  a  century  and  a  half  ago,  that  sublime 
genius  invented  them.  The  Prince  de  Soubise 
and  his  distinguished  chef  Marin,   who  flourished 


120  THE    OLD   REGIME 

rather  later  in  the  century,  originated  some  very- 
costly  plats ;  but  none  of  their  creations  have 
obtained  such  general  acceptance,  and  so  long 
retained  undiminished  popularity,  as  those  of  the 
famous  Vicomte  de  Bechamel. 

It  was  the  fashion  at  that  time  at  certain  hotels 
of  the  noblesse  to  prepare  a  supper,  on  opera 
nights,  for  ten  or  twelve  friends,  who  were  invited 
during  the  performance  to  return  home  with  the 
host  or  hostess.  Care  was  taken  to  have  an  equal 
number  of  ladies  and  gentlemen.  Returning  from 
the  opera  or  theatre  was  a  miserable  affair  in  those 
times.  The  feeble  gleam  from  the  lanterns,  or 
the  lurid  glare  of  torches,  both  carried  by  men  — 
for,  as  yet,  there  were  no  rcvcrbh'es —  gave  but  a 
very  flickering,  uncertain  light,  often  treacher- 
ously leading  both  horses  and  men  into  quagmires 
of  accumulated  mud,  threatening  to  life  and  limb. 
To  enter  the  sallc  of  some  splendid  hotel,  after 
traversing  the  gloomy  streets,  was  like  passing 
from  Cimmerian  darkness  into  the  bright  precincts 
of  fairy-land. 

Girandoles  of  chased  silver  or  Venetian  glass, 
filled  with  bougies,  are  ranged  on  the  walls. 
Splendid  candelabra  on  the  table,  which  is  covered 
with  finest  white  linen  from  Holland,  sparkling 
crystal  glass,  and  Japanese  porcelain,  or  a  magnifi- 
cent table  service  in  silver  ;  vases  and  epergnes, 
filled  with  flowers  and  fruits,  giving  colour  and 
beauty   to   the   table    arrangements.     The    cham- 


FASHIONS   OF   THE   rFRIOD  12  1 

pagne  is  ready,  and  the  more  substantial  part  of 
the  supper  only  waits  the  presence  of  the  guests. 

And  the  guests  themselves  form  a  brilliant 
show,  quite  worth  bestowing  a  glance  upon.  The 
gentlemen  wear  fewer  superfluous  puffings  of  satin 
and  velvet  than  in  the  Louis  XIV.  time.  They 
have  also  greatly  diminished  the  height,  length 
and  breadth  of  their  wigs.  Some  have  altogether 
dispensed  with  flowing  curls  at  the  back,  and  have 
adopted  powder  and  the  bourse,  or  bag-wig.  The 
late  king  was  persuaded  to  try  it,  but  can  hardly 
be  said  to  have  adopted  it,  and  in  the  size  of  his 
peruke  he  would  not  abate  an  inch.  Embroidered 
silk  or  velvet  coats  are  still  the  grande  mode  ;  but 
they  sit  closer  to  the  figure.  The  voluminous 
trousses  are  entirely  abandoned,  except  on  state 
days,  for  a  tighter-fitting  garment,  with  a  long  em- 
broidered vest.  There  is  an  ample  display  of  fine 
lace  in  jabots  and  mancJicttcs.  Diamonds  glitter 
in  buttons,  on  sword-hilts,  and  in  feather-bordered 
hats  ;  and  the  red-heeled  shoes,  cut  in  a  high  flap 
above  the  instep,  are  fastened  by  elaborately  chased 
gold  or  diamond  buckles. 

The  elderly  ladies  of  this  period  did  not  follow 
the  changing  modes  of  the  younger  ones.  They 
continued  to  wear  the  plainer  and  more  suitable 
style  of  dress  introduced  by  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon. 

Like  the  gentlemen,  the  young  ladies  have  cut 
down  their  head-dresses  to  a  moderate  height.     All 


122  THE    OLD   REGIME 

wear  powder.  It  is  thought  to  be  advantageous 
to  the  complexion,  and  to  impart  lustre  to  the  eyes 
and  brilliancy  to  the  eyelashes.  Pearls  and  dia- 
monds and  lace  are  intertwined  with  the  hair. 
The  blondes  are  lavish  in  the  use  of  les  moucJics  ; 
but  it  is  lamentable  to  note  that  snuff-taking  is 
becoming  far  too  general  a  habit,  many  pretty 
noses  showing  traces  of  it.  There  is,  you  per- 
ceive, no  diminution  in  the  spread  of  the  panicr, 
and  the  skirt,  long  and  training  at  the  back,  is 
caught  up  at  the  side  with  bows  of  riband  with 
long  floating  ends.  The  shoes  are  really  artistic 
productions,  and,  extravagant  as  they  are  in  price, 
it  is  yet  impossible  to  speak  of  such  marvels  of 
workmanship  as  dear.  The  cordonnier  of  that  clay 
(to  translate  him  into  a  shoemaker  is  to  drag  him, 
as  it  were,  from  his  pedestal)  was  truly  an  artist. 

How  gracefully,  too,  the  ruffles  of  fine  point 
d'Alencon  wave  to  and  fro,  as  the  ladies  flutter 
their  fans.  "This  is  a  Lancret,"  remarks  one  of 
the  fair  dames,  as  she  opens  her  fan  for  inspec- 
tion. "Watteau,  you  know,  has  grown  ambitious 
since  the  Academy  has  received  his  pictures." 

"  Yes,  he  has  forsaken  his  shepherdesses,  and 
has  sent  a  really  fine  picture  to  the  salon  this 
season — '  Infantry  on  the  March.'  But  he  is  ill, 
and  I  fear  will  paint  but  few  more." 

"  Have  you  seen  the  Le  Couvreur  in  Mariamne  ? " 
asks  another,  who  has  just  dropped  in  after  the 
Theatre  Francais.     "  No  ?     You  must  then.     She 


AN  EXAMPLE    TO    THE    CZAR  123 

is  splendid  in  mourning.  Made  quite  an  impres- 
sion. Voltaire  does  well  to  pay  homage  in  that 
quarter.  I  am  told  he  is  constantly  on  his  knees 
before  her.  He  knows  that  it  is  Adrienne  more 
than  Mariamne  that  raises  such  ^fureur." 

Seated  round  the  splendidly  appointed  table  this 
grand  company  is  really  a  charming  sight.  There 
is  more  talking  than  eating  —  with  the  ladies,  at 
least  ;  yet  the  foaming  vin  d'Ai  seems  to  meet 
with  their  full  approval.  It  is  to  be  feared  that  it 
is  even  growing  too  much  in  favour  with  ces  belles 
dames  of  the  regency. 

Is  it  not  likely  that  the  great  Peter,  though  fond 
of  going  to  bed  at  seven  or  eight  in  the  evening, 
may  once  or  twice  have  been  present  at  uu  petit 
souper  after  the  Opera  ?  He  was  fond  of  music, 
and  the  ballet  pleased  him  greatly,  though  he  cared 
little  for  the  performances  of  the  Theatre  Francais. 

It  may  be  suspected  that  it  was  so ;  and  that  the 
savage  breast  of  the  Russian  bear  was  subdued  by 
the  fascinations  of  the  ladies  at  some  brilliant  re- 
union of  this  sort ;  that  he  then  and  there  inwardly 
resolved  to  give  the  Muscovite  Court  an  empress, 
and  to  raise  woman  in  his  wide  empire  to  as  lofty 
a  pinnacle  as  that  upon  which  she  was  elevated  in 
France. 


CHAPTER    XL 

The  Turkish  Ambassador.  —  The  Turk's  Blessing.  —  The  King's 
Unwonted  Docility.  —  The  Young  King's  Amusements. — 
The  King's  Pastors  and  Masters.  —  The  King  and  His  Con- 
fessor.—  Massillon's  Petit  Careme.  —  The  Preaching  of 
Massillon.  —  Massillon  in  Society.  —  Villeroi's  Devotion  to 
His  King.  —  A  Youthful  Gambler.  —  Projected  Marriages. — 
The  Bulle  Unigenitus. — A  Very  Vicious  Bull.  —  Taken  by 
the  Horns.  —  The  Marriages  Arranged. 

HAT  does  your  Excellency  think  of  the 


jp.  beauty  of  my  king  ?  Is  not  he  charming, 
H  amiable,  graceful  —  a  perfect  picture  ?  " 

"Allah  be  praised,  and  preserve  this  fair  child 
from  all  that  is  evil  and  ill-omened!  " 

The  questioner  is  the  old  marechal,  Due  de 
Villeroi,  the  young  king's  governor,  and  now  in  his 
seventy-ninth  year.  He  who  replies  is  Mehemet 
Effendi,  Ambassador  Extraordinary  from  the 
Sultan,  Achmet  III.  The  Turk  had  expressed 
a  wish  to  see  the  youthful  Louis  XV.,  and  a  day 
had,  accordingly,  been  appointed  to  receive  him  at 
Vincennes.  Mehemet  was  shrewd  and  observant. 
He  wrote  an  account  of  his  embassy,  and  criticised, 
with  much  acuteness,  those  members  of  the  regent's 
government  with  whom  the  object  of  his  mission 

124 


THE    TURKISH  AMBASSADOR  I  25 

brought  him  in  contact.  He  speaks  with  contempt 
and  disdain  of  the  infamous  Dubois,  then  minister 
for  foreign  affairs,  as  well  as  Archbishop  of  Cam- 
brai.  "  He  did  me  the  honour,"  writes  Mehemet, 
"to  receive  me  on  a  carpet  of  cloth  of  gold,  but 
could  not  make  up  his  mind  to  favour  me  with  one 
word  of  truth." 

Of  his  interview  with  the  youthful  sovereign 
and  his  governor,  he  says,  "  After  being  introduced 
by  the  marechal,  we  entered  into  a  pleasant  and 
friendly  conversation  on  various  topics,  the  little 
king  greatly  admiring  the  Turkish  dress,  and  ex- 
amining my  poignard  very  minutely,  as  well  as 
that  of  my  secretary,  and  the  interpreter's  who 
accompanied  me." 

Villeroi,  after  Mehemet's  reply  to  his  question 
respecting  the  child-king's  beauty,  proceeded  to 
inform  him  that  his  king  was  but  eleven  years  and 
four  months  old,  and  that  his  figure,  as  he  per- 
ceived, was  already  well-developed  and  finely  pro- 
portioned. 

"  Look  well  at  his  hair,"  he  said  ;  "it  is  all  his 
own  —  no  wig." 

"  And  as  the  marechal  spoke,  he  turned  the 
child  round,"  remarks  Mehemet,  "  that  I  might 
better  observe  his  hyacinthine  locks.  I  passed  my 
fingers  caressingly  through  them  :  they  were  like 
threads  of  gold,  even  in  length,  and  falling  in  curls 
over  his  back  and  shoulders. 

"'He   can   walk    well,   too,'   said    his    governor. 


126  THE    OLD   REGIME 

'  Now  let  us  see  you  walk  in  your  very  best  man- 
ner.' And  the  little  king,  with  the  majestic  gait 
of  the  partridge,  walked  to  the  centre  of  the  salon, 
and  back  again. 

" '  Now,  with  greater  speed,'  he  added,  '  that 
his  Excellency  may  see  how  swiftly  you  can  run.' 
Immediately  the  king  began  to  bound  with  the 
fleetness  of  a  young  roe  up  and  clown  the  apart- 
ment. The  marechal  then  asked  me  if  I  did  not 
think  he  was  an  amiable  child. 

"I  answered,"  says  Mehemet,  "fervently,  as 
the  child  stood  beside  me,  with  his  hand  clasped 
in  mine,  '  May  the  All-powerful  Allah,  who  created 
this  beautiful  being,  bless  and  preserve  him  ! '  " 

The  ambassador  appears  to  have  witnessed  this 
little  farce  with  the  most  perfect  gravity  ;  and  his 
youthful  majesty  to  have  been  more  docile  than 
usual.  All  accounts  represent  him  as  shy  with 
strangers,  and  apathetic  and  obstinate  in  the 
extreme. 

The  Turks  and  their  rich  Oriental  dresses  were, 
however,  a  novelty  to  him,  which  may  account  for 
his  unwonted  docility,  and  the  readiness  with 
which  he  obeyed  his  doting  old  governor,  and 
allowed  him  to  put  him  through  his  paces  in  so 
undignified  a  manner. 

Owing  to  the  king's  delicate  health  in  these 
early  years,  he  had  been  permitted  to  run  almost 
wild,  with  the  view  of  strengthening  his  constitu- 
tion by  much  open-air  exercise  and  amusement. 


THE    YOUNG   KING'S  AMUSEMENTS        1 27 

It  was  then  scarcely  expected  that  he  would  live 
to  attain  his  majority  —  his  thirteenth  year.  But 
it  was  his  governor's  opinion  that  his  life  was  more 
in  clanger  from  poison  than  from  bodily  weakness. 
Vigilant,  therefore,  was  the  watch  he  kept  over 
those  who  prepared  the  child's  meals ;  while  his 
shirts,  gloves,  handkerchiefs  and  bed-linen  were 
under  the  charge  of  the  anxious  marechal  him- 
self. 

Hitherto  the  king  had  received  but  little  in- 
struction. His  preceptor,  Fleury,  Bishop  of 
Frejus,  thought  more  of  gaining  his  pupil's  affec- 
tion by  excessive  indulgence  than  of  cultivating 
his  mind  and  training  him  in  habits  of  industry. 
At  La  Muette  —  bought  for  him  after  the  death  of 
the  Duchesse  de  Berri  —  there  was  a  small  plot 
of  ground,  named  by  Villeroi,  "  His  Majesty's 
garden,"  which  was  dug  and  planted  wholly  by 
himself.  He  had,  also,  a  cow,  which  he  milked 
and  tended.  But,  more  objectionable  still,  he  was 
allowed  to  mess  about  with  saucepans  and  kettles, 
and  prepare  his  own  potagc  and  coffee.  Like 
Louis  XIII.,  he  was  fond  of  falcons,  and  was 
amused  to  see  them  pick  to  pieces  the  poor  little 
live  sparrows  that  were  given  them  for  food. 

Not  that  he  was  absolutely  cruel.  But  he  was 
of  a  sluggish,  apathetic  temperament,  bored  to 
death  even  at  this  early  age.  The  earnest  vicious- 
ness  of  these  birds  of  prey  was  a  spectacle  that 
roused    him    from    his    dreamy   discontent,    capti- 


128  THE    OLD   REGIME 

vated  his  attention,  therefore  amused  him.  His 
natural  insensibility  preserved  him  from  feelings 
of  pain  or  pity  at  witnessing  the  struggles  and 
sufferings  of  the  poor  little  birds.  Such  feelings 
were  reserved  for  himself  when  any  mischance 
occurred  to  him.  And  the  boy  proved  father  to 
the  man. 

It  was  a  misfortune  for  Louis  XV.,  as  Madame 
de  Maintenon  observed,  "  that  he  should  not  have 
learned  obedience,  as  a  subject,  before  commanding 
as  a  king."  But  the  system  of  education  pursued 
by  the  governess,  governor  and  preceptor  ap- 
pointed by  Louis  XIV.,  consisted  in  gratifying  his 
every  whim  —  encouraging  every  puerile  fancy, 
without  any  attempt  to  inculcate  moral  principles 
or  noble  and  generous  sentiments.  True,  he  was 
taught  to  say  his  prayers  regularly,  and  to  attend 
mass  daily :  but  the  first  was  a  mere  exercise  of 
the  memory,  and  almost  the  only  one  imposed  on 
it  ;  the  second,  simply  a  matter  of  habit  and 
routine.  One  can  imagine  that  he  had  heard  less 
of  the  goodness  of  God  than  of  the  power  of  the 
evil  one ;  for,  like  the  two  preceding  Louis,  he 
stood  immensely  in  fear  of  his  satanic  majesty. 

When  he  was  seven  and  a  half  years  old  the 
Duchesse  de  Ventadour  gave  up  her  charge 
entirely  into  the  hands  of  the  Due  de  Villeroi. 
The  regent  then  appointed  the  Abbe  Fleury  con- 
fessor to  the  king.  Though  of  the  same  name, 
the  abbe  was  not  related  to  the  Bishop  of  Frejus. 


THE  KING   AND   HIS    CONFESSOR  1 29 

He  had  been  sous  prc'ccptcur  to  the  Due  de 
Bourgogne,  the  king's  father,  was  now  near  eighty 
years  of  age,  and  for  many  years  had  been  wholly 
devoted  to  literature.  His  "  Histoire  de  l'Eglise  " 
was  long  considered  the  best  work  that  had  been 
written  on  that  subject,  and  its  style,  though  un- 
pretending, natural  and  forcible.  According  to 
Voltaire,  the  "  Discours  Preliminaires  "  were  supe- 
rior to  the  history,  being  " prcsquc  d'un  pJii- 
losophe."  The  regent  said,  "  he  selected  him  to 
take  charge  of  the  king's  conscience  because  he 
was  neither  Jansenist,  Molinist,  nor  Ultramon- 
tain." 

He,  however,  lived  in  the  palace  secluded  in  his 
own  apartment,  his  duties  as  confessor  being  too 
slightly  onerous  to  interrupt  his  literary  pursuits. 
It  was  customary  for  the  little  king,  with  his  own 
royal  hand,  to  scrawl  out  for  himself  a  confession 
of  the  peccadilloes  of  which  he  considered  he  had 
been  guilty.  This  was  submitted,  first,  to  the 
bishop,  who,  having  revised  it,  sent  it  to  the  abbe. 
After  looking  over  it,  some  words  of  exhortation 
were  addressed  to  the  youthful  penitent,  and 
absolution  was  given,  it  being  an  understood 
arrangement  that  no  questions  should  ever  be  put 
to  him. 

At  about  this  time  the  celebrated  preacher 
Massillon  was  delivering  those  eloquent  discourses 
known  as  the  "Petit  careme."  The  young  king 
was  supposed  to  learn  from  them  both  his  duty 


130  THE   OLD   REGIME 

towards  his  people  and  what  his  own  private 
conduct  should  be.  The  popularity  of  these  dis- 
courses was  immense.  They  had  a  vogue  which 
sermons,  as  sermons,  can  scarcely  again  hope  to 
attain.  "  First,  because  "  (says  that  able  writer, 
M.  Bungener)  "  they  lack  almost  entirely  the 
scvc  cJircticnnc,  and  are  sermons  as  little  as  it  is 
possible  to  be.  Throughout  them  there  breathes 
a  spirit  of  morality  pure  and  pleasing,  but  of 
morality  only  ;  of  faith  there  is  none.  Secondly, 
philosophy  abounds  in  them,  and,  as  far  as  it  goes, 
it  is  good  and  wise  philosophy  ;  but  it  is  weak, 
and  may,  with  too  much  facility,  be  made  to  adapt 
itself  to  the  ideas,  the  interests,  the  passions  of 
the  period." 

Voltaire  is  said  to  have  invariably  had  the 
"Petit  careme"  lying  beside  him  when  writing. 
He  speaks  of  its  author  as  "  le  predicatcur  qui  a  Ic 
mieux  connu  Ic  monde.  Un  pJiilosopJic  viodcrc  ct 
tolerant."  The  philosophers  of  the  new  school, 
with  Voltaire  at  their  head,  vaunted  Fenelon  and 
Massillon  as  being  sharers  in  their  opinions  and 
views.  The  first  for  attacking  authority,  by  at- 
tacking in  Telemachus  the  vices  of  Louis  XIV.  ; 
the  second  for  teaching  in  the  "Petit  careme,"  and 
in  the  name  of  God,  that  authority  emanates  from 
the  people. 

Like  his  famous  predecessor,  Bourdaloue,  Mas- 
sillon did  not  excel  in  funeral  orations.  His 
great  gift  of  eloquence  seemed  to  fail  him  when 


THE   rREACHING    OF  MASSILLON  131 

lauding  the  imaginary  virtues  of  the  dead.  One 
sentence  only  became  celebrated,  "  Dicic  sail  est 
grand,  mesfreres."  They  are  the  opening  words 
of  the  funeral  oration  of  Louis  XIV.,  and  were 
no  doubt  effective ;  those  to  whom  they  were 
addressed  having  accustomed  themselves  to  believe 
that  le  rot  sen!  est  grand.  For  as  Massillon,  in 
the  course  of  his  oration,  remarked,  "  His  subjects 
almost  raised  altars  to  him." 

During  the  last  twenty  years  of  his  life,  in  the 
retirement  of  his  diocese  of  Clermont,  Massillon 
occupied  himself  in  revising  his  sermons,  in  im- 
proving and  polishing  their  style,  and,  it  is  said, 
bringing  them  more  into  harmony  with  the  philo- 
sophical ideas  then  prevalent.  But  whether  or 
not,  as  they  remain  to  us  they  are  models  of  elo- 
quence. Those  on  true  and  false  glory  contain 
lessons  that  Louis  XIV.,  no  less  than  his  successor, 
might  well  indeed  have  laid  to  heart.  Another 
on  ennui  and  its  remedy,  had  its  counsels  been 
followed,  might  have  spared  Louis  XV.  many 
an  idle  hour  of  melancholy,  and  weariness  of 
existence. 

If,  as  is  sometimes  asserted,  all  that  these  ser- 
mons contain  of  Christian  doctrine  is  in  the  text, 
the  rest  being  mere  moral  teaching,  it  must  yet 
be  confessed  that  it  is  moral  teaching  of  a  very 
high  order,  and  that  the  world  would  be  none  the 
worse  if  this  mere  morality,  so  ably  taught,  were 
more  generally  put  into  practice.      Massillon  was 


132  THE    OLD   REGIME 

greatly  sought  after  in  society.  Like  so  many  of 
the  academic  forty,  he  was  a  frequenter  of  the 
salon  of  Madame  de  Lambert.  His  reputation 
was  great  as  un  Jiommc  d' esprit ;  and,  though 
inclining  to  the  new  school  of  thought,  in  urbanity 
and  politeness  of  manner,  he  was  a  follower  of 
the  vicillc  cow:  He  would  never  be  drawn  into 
a  theological  argument.  De  Richelieu,  on  one 
occasion,  having  put  some  malapropos  question  of 
the  sort  to  him,  he  replied,  "_/ 'ai  V habitude  de  ne 
parlcr  theologie  que  dans  la  chaire,  et  an  confes- 
sional.     Vcncz  my  trouver." 

Massillon  once  preached  in  the  Royal  Chapel, 
in  the  presence  of  the  young  king,  his  governor, 
and  the  court,  on  the  text,  "  Bienheureux  les 
pcnples  dont  les  rois  sont  d'ancienne  race."  A  text 
which,  be  it  remarked  en  passant,  has  little  or  no 
philosophy  or  Christian  doctrine  in  it.  However, 
the  Due  de  Villeroi,  who  was  not  only  devoted  to 
his  king,  but  also  one  of  the  most  obsequious 
courtiers  of  the  old  school,  was  much  affected 
by  the  text.  Whenever  the  preacher,  in  the 
course  of  his  sermon,  repeated  it,  the  old  duke 
wept,  his  emotion  increasing  as  the  discourse 
proceeded. 

At  last,  after  gazing  on  his  king  with  a  sort  of 
rapturous  expression,  as  on  some  beautiful  vision, 
while  the  words,  bienheureux,  etc.,  were  pro- 
nounced, he,  when  they  were  concluded,  pressed 
his  aged  hands  on  his  eyes,  bowed  his  head  and 


VILLEROrS   DEVOTION    TO    HIS  A'EYG     I  33 

sobbed.  His  king,  meanwhile,  greatly  in  the  sulks 
at  the  length  of  the  sermon,  and  unable  also  to 
comprehend  the  cause  of  his  governor's  emotion, 
looked  first  at  him,  then  at  the  preacher,  with 
that  air  of  proud  defiance  he  had  from  his  child- 
hood, and  frowned  and  pouted  his  disgust  with 
both.  Malheureux  les  paiplcs,  etc.,  might  then 
have  been  presaged. 

Yet  one  must  feel  pity  for  this  orphan  child  — 
so  lonely,  silent  and  melancholy.  It  is  not  sur- 
prising that  he  should  have  been  reserved  and 
shy,  accustomed  as  he  was  from  infancy  to  be 
hedged  about  with  the  same  stiff  etiquette  as  had 
prevailed  in  the  old  king's  court.  Doomed,  too, 
to  the  companionship  and  care  of  those  aged  per- 
sons, with  whom  he  could  feel  no  sympathy,  and 
who  had  no  tie  of  relationship  on  him  to  call  it 
forth.  He  was  fond  of  Fleury,  who  was  amiable 
and  gentle,  and  whose  character  inspired  affection 
far  more  than  that  of  the  fussy  old  Due  de 
Villeroi,  though  Villeroi's  vigilance  was  believed 
—  and  by  Fleury  himself  —  to  have  thwarted  the 
designs  that  at  one  time  existed  against  the  king's 
life. 

He  seems  to  have  associated  scarcely  at  all  with 
the  youthful  nobility,  who  as  pages  de  cour,  or 
menins,  were  usually  brought  up  with  royal  chil- 
dren. The  effeminate  Due  de  Gevres  and  the 
Marquis  de  Sauvre  were  of  the  number.  They 
were    something   older  than   the   king,  but    their 


134  THE    OLD   REGIME 

influence  on  him  was  an  evil  one,  as  was  also 
that  of  the  Due  de  Richelieu,  some  few  years 
later.  Young  Louis,  however,  was  already  a  gam- 
bler, and  expert  at  most  games  of  hazard.  No 
check,  apparently,  was,  in  this  respect,  placed  on 
him,  as  he  frequently  staked  considerable  sums. 
He  was  also  remarkably  eager  to  win  money,  and 
very  carefully  hoarded  his  gains. 

But  a  circumstance  occurred  at  this  time  which 
temporarily  occasioned  the  young  monarch  much 
pain  and  annoyance.  There  had  been  a  short  war 
with  Spain  after  the  discovery  and  breaking  up 
of  the  Duchesse  du  Maine's  Spanish  plot.  The 
quarrel  being  settled,  the  regent  became  desirous 
of  marrying  one  of  his  daughters  to  the  Spanish 
prince  —  Don  Louis,  Prince  of  the  Asturias.  To 
induce  the  king  of  Spain  to  lend  a  favourable  ear 
to  his  proposal,  the  regent  also  suggested  a  mar- 
riage between  the  youthful  Infanta  and  Louis 
XV.,  not  yet  twelve  years  old.  Philip  gave  his 
consent  on  certain  conditions,  of  a  religious,  or, 
rather,  theological  character. 

Although  "  trte  frangais"  and  always  yearning 
for  his  country  —  his  possession  of  the  Spanish 
crown  never  reconciling  him  to  exile  —  Philip  V. 
had,  nevertheless,  become  a  perfect  Spaniard  in 
bigotry.  He  was  a  furiously  zealous  supporter  of 
the  presumptuous  pretensions  of  the  Church  of 
Rome  to  rule  the  conscience  of  mankind ;  and  he 
could  imagine  no  more  pleasing  spectacle  to  pre- 


THE   BULLE    UNIGENITUS  1 35 

sent  to  the  foreign  visitors  at  his  court,  who  were 
of  the  fold  of  the  faithful,  than  a  brilliant  auto-da- 
fe,  for  which  there  was  always  a  supply  of  poor 
heretics  kept  on  hand. 

This,  he  thought,  infinitely  better  than  the 
ordinary  bull-fights.  They  are  apt  to  inspire  dis- 
gust, as  well  as  feelings  of  pity  for  the  sufferings 
of  the  animals  engaged  in  them,  when  there  is 
wanting  in  the  spectator  the  Spanish  enthusiasm 
that  overrules  all  other  feeling.  But  the  burning 
of  heretics  had  a  soothing  effect  on  the  agitated 
mind  of  Philip.  And  in  those  good  old  times  it 
was  to  many  devout  Catholics  as  the  offering  up 
to  heaven  of  a  sweet-smelling  sacrifice,  with  the 
certainty,  too,  that  it  was  looked  upon  there  with 
favour. 

Philip's  conditions,  then,  were:  First,  that  the 
Bulk  Unigcnitus,  which  had  for  many  years  been 
the  fertile  source  of  dissension  in  the  Gallican 
Church,  should  be  unanimously  accepted  by  the 
French  clergy,  and  registered  by  the  Parliament. 
Secondly,  that  the  conscience  of  the  young  king 
should  be  confided  to  the  direction  of  a  Jesuit  con- 
fessor, the  good,  old,  easy-going  Abbe  Fleury  being 
required  to  resign. 

This  second  condition  was  easily  complied  with. 
The  old  abbe  was  too  far  advanced  on  the  journey 
of  life  to  be  troubled  with  worldly  ambition.  He 
gathered  up  his  papers  and  parchments,  and  went 
his  way  contentedly  enough. 


I36  THE    OLD   REGIME 

But  the  Bulk  ?  *  Now,  this  Bulk  Unigenitus 
had  occasioned  Louis  XIV.  infinite  worry  of  mind 
during  the  last  years  of  his  life,  and  the  clergy  of 
France,  high  and  low,  had  been  kept  in  a  continual 
ferment  respecting  it.  Many  had  been  the  heart- 
burnings felt  by  bishops  and  archbishops,  and  doc- 
tors of  the  Sorbonne,  as  on  the  one  side  it  was 
decreed  to  accept  it,  on  the  other  to  firmly  oppose 
it.  In  short,  the  proverbial  bull  in  a  china  shop, 
however  viciously  determined  on  overthrowing  and 
demolishing  all  the  crockery  that  came  in  his  way, 
could  not  have  committed  more  havoc  and  devas- 
tation than  did  this  Papal  Bull  in  the  destruction 

*  The  Bulk  Unigenitus,  as  most  persons  know,  was  issued  by 
Pope  Clement  XI.  in  1 7 1 3.  Its  object  was  to  condemn  a  small 
work,  entitled  "  Reflexions  Morales  sur  l'fivangile,"  published  so 
long  before  as  1671.  It  was  written  by  le  Pere  Quesnel,  of  the 
Oratoire.  The  work  had  had  great  success,  had  passed  through 
several  editions,  and  even  had  met  with  the  approval  of  the  great 
Bossuet.  It  was  popular,  also,  with  the  Jansenists.  This  being 
the  case,  the  Jesuits  began  to  suspect,  a  new  edition  being  called 
for  after  the  death  of  Bossuet,  that  the  work  must  contain  some 
heretical  doctrines.  Disputes  arose  on  the  subject,  which  led  to 
a  revival  of  the  Jansenist  quarrels.  Louis  XIV.  then  requested 
the  sovereign  pontiff,  Clement  XI.,  to  give  his  opinion  of  the 
work.  After  three  years'  consideration,  the  result  was  the  famous 
Bidle  Unigenitus,  condemning  101  of  Quesnel's  propositions. 
Among  them  was  the  following  :  "  One  should  not  be  deterred 
from  doing  one's  duty  by  the  fear  of  being  unjustly  excommuni- 
cated." Of  course  no  Pope  could  tolerate  teaching  so  heretical 
as  that.  La  Pere  Quesnel  died,  very  poor  and  in  exile,  at  near 
ninety  years  of  age,  about  the  time  of  Philip's  demand  that  the 
Bull  should  be  accepted  in  France,  if  his  daughter  was  to  be  the 
queen  of  Louis  XV. 


TAKEN  BY   THE  HORNS  I  37 

of  harmony  and  good  feeling  amongst  the  clerical 
party  and  Catholics,  good  and  bad  generally,  who 
composed  the  Gallican  Church. 

However,  what  Louis  XIV.,  with  all  his  despotic 
authority,  could  not  accomplish  ;  what  the  cardinal 
archbishop  of  Paris  had  refused  the  king  on  his 
deathbed  —  when  he  sent  to  request  him  to  accept 
the  Bull,  and  with  the  request  made  an  offer  of 
reconciliation  —  Dubois,  influenced  solely  by  ambi- 
tious views,  undertook  to  effect.  And  he  suc- 
ceeded. 

The  cardinal,  for  the  sake  of  giving  peace  to  the 
Church,  and  putting  an  end  to  the  irritating  theo- 
logical quarrels  which  this  abominable  Bull  had 
given  rise  to  throughout  France,  consented  to 
accept  it.  Yet  he  did  not  yield  it  a  hearty  con- 
sent, but  merely  allowed  conviction  to  be  forced 
on  him  solely  against  his  will.  Other  recalcitrant 
prelates,  however,  thought  it  right  to  follow  the 
cardinal  archbishop's  example.  If  in  the  end  it 
proved  that  the  Bull  had  only  been  "scotched," 
not  killed,  present  purposes  yet  were  served,  and, 
above  all,  the  worthy  Dubois  received  his  expected 
reward  from  Pope  Innocent  III. 

The  archbishopric  of  Rheims  was  offered  at  this 
time  to  Fleury,  with  the  intention  of  superseding 
him  as  preceptor,  his  growing  influence  with  the 
king  displeasing  Dubois.  But  Fleury,  who  had 
resigned  the  bishopric  of  Frejus  for  that  appoint- 
ment, now  declined  to  give  it  up  for  the  archbish- 


138  THE    OLD  REGIME 

opric.  Titles,  honours  and  large  revenues  were 
no  temptations  to  him.  He  loved  power,  no  doubt ; 
and  as  he  was  one  of  those  who  believe  that  to  wait 
and  watch  for  the  object  desired  is  often  the  surest 
way  of  obtaining  it,  the  power  he  coveted,  in  due 
time,  fell  into  his  hands,  when  he  quietly  but  firmly 
grasped  it. 

Philip,  however,  was  satisfied,  and  the  regent 
had  now  but  to  announce  to  the  young  king  the 
marriage  arranged  for  him,  and  to  obtain  his  con- 
sent to  it. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

The  New  Cardinal  Archbishop.  —  An  Unwilling  Bridegroom. — 
A  Sorrowful  Fate.  —  The  Chateau  de  Rambouillet.  —  The 
Rambouillet  Menage. 

^ISHOP  FLEURY,  preceptor;  the  Abbe 
Fleury,  confessor ;  the  Marechal  Due 
de  Villeroi,  governor;  and  the  Due  de 
Bourbon-Conde,  nominal  superintendent  of  the 
king's  education,  were  assembled  in  the  grande 
sallc  at  Vincennes,  the  king  being  seated  in  his 
chair  of  state,  to  receive  the  regent. 

He  entered,  accompanied  by  Dubois,  whom  he 
formally  presented  to  the  king.  Then  informed 
him  that  to  the  zeal  of  the  Archbishop  of  Cambrai 
he  owed  the  tranquillity  of  his  kingdom  ;  also  the 
peace  of  the  Church  of  France  —  the  schism  that 
had  so  long  divided  it  being,  by  his  earnest  efforts, 
happily  ended.  "An  important  service  indeed," 
he  continued,  "for  which  his  holiness  had  rewarded 
the  archbishop  with  a  cardinal's  hat." 

The  king  bowed,  but  made  no  reply.  The  old 
marechal  stood  beside  him,  as  stiff,  firm  and  up- 
right as  the  weight  of  his  eighty  years  allowed. 
But  neither  he  nor  the  Bishop  of  Frejus  appeared 
to  notice  the  inquiring  glances  directed  towards 

i39 


I40  THE    OLD   REGIME 

them  by  the  young  king,  when  the  regent  had  con- 
cluded his  address.  Accustomed  to  read  in  their 
countenances  what  etiquette  prescribed  should  be 
done,  he  supposed,  as  they  gave  no  sign  of  life, 
that  the  right  and  proper  thing  was  to  be  silent. 

The  regent  then  entered  on  the  subject  of  the 
marriage.  Instantly  young  Louis's  attention  was 
roused.  As  the  arrangements  respecting  it  were 
explained  to  him,  the  poor  boy's  dismay  increased. 
The  idea  of  a  wife  filled  him  with  terror.  The 
etiquette  always  so  persistingly  enforced,  he  at 
once  cast  to  the  winds,  and,  jumping  down  from 
his  chair  of  state,  rushed  to  his  preceptor.  Lean- 
ing on  his  shoulder,  and  throwing  his  arms  around 
him,  he  wept  bitterly,  and  loudly  complained  of 
the  unkindness  of  the  regent. 

All  present  endeavoured,  in  turn,  to  console 
their  young  monarch.  He  was  assured  that  the 
marriage  itself  was  a  far  distant  event  ;  that  his 
assent  to  it  only  was  required  at  that  time. 

"Allans  done;  allons  done,  vion  maitre"  said 
the  old  duke,  coaxingly  ;  "  donnez  votre  consente- 
ment  franchement.  II  f ant  f aire  la  chose  de  bonne 
grace,  mon  maitreP 

At  length,  after  much  expostulation,  persua- 
sion and  entreaty,  the  bishop  obtained  from  him 
a  tearful  and  unwilling  "  out."  A  short  but  more 
gracious  reply  had  been  prepared  for  him,  with 
the  view  of  sending  it  to  Spain,  to  gratify  his 
uncle,  Philip  V.      But  he  refused  to  repeat  it,  and 


an  Unwilling  bridegroom        141 

escaped  from  his  tormentors  to  indulge  his  sorrow 
in  solitude. 

A  council  of  regency  was  held  the  next  day  for 
the  purpose  of  receiving  the  king's  announcement 
of  his  marriage.  But  his  majesty's  repugnance  to 
matrimony  appears  even  to  have  increased  in  the 
interval.  It  was  with  difficulty  he  was  prevailed 
on  to  attend  the  council  ;  and  when  there,  not  a 
word  of  the  message  from  the  throne  would  he 
utter.  Silently  he  sat  there,  poor  child,  the  tears 
running  down  his  face.  And  his  lot,  no  doubt, 
was  then  felt  by  him  to  be  cruel  indeed  ;  sorrow 
of  the  heart  in  those  early  years  is  often  very 
acute.  At  last  the  marechal  was  compelled  to 
speak  for  him,  and  to  inform  the  council  of  his 
majesty's  intention  to  unite  himself  in  marriage 
with  the  Infanta  of  Spain,  etc.,  etc. 

Still  it  was  necessary  he  should  notify  that  the 
announcement  was  made  with  his  approval.  He, 
however,  vouchsafed  no  reply  to  the  question  ; 
and  the  council,  like  the  regent,  on  the  previous 
day,  had  to  be  content  with  a  reluctantly  whispered 
utterance,  supposed  to  be  "out." 

The  exchange  of  the  young  brides-elect  took 
place  some  months  afterwards  at  the  He  des 
Faisans,  where,  sixty-two  years  before,  was  held 
the  famous  conference  between  Mazarin  and  Don 
Haro,  which  preceded  the  marriage  of  Louis  XIV. 
with  the  Spanish  Princess  Maria  Theresa.  The 
regent's    daughter,    Mdlle.    de    Montpensier,    was 


142  THE    OLD   REGIME 

twelve  years  of  age ;  the  Infanta  Maria  Anna 
Victoria  only  three.  There  appears  to  have  been 
no  ceremony  of  betrothal.  The  king  would  prob- 
ably have  stoutly  resisted  that,  as  an  attempt  to 
actually  marry  him. 

The  little  princess  was  taken  to  the  Chateau  de 
Rambouillet,  about  nine  leagues  from  Paris,  to  be 
brought  up  there,  under  the  surveillance  of  the 
Comtesse  de  Toulouse,  a  sister  of  the  Due  de 
Noailles.  The  Comte  de  Toulouse,  brother  of  the 
Due  du  Maine,  had  but  recently  declared  his  mar- 
riage with  this  lady.  It  seems  to  have  been  con- 
sidered a  mesalliance,  though  the  Count  was  but  a 
legitimated  prince.  At  all  events,  Rambouillet 
was  rather  looked  down  upon  by  Sceaux  —  so  far, 
at  least,  as  the  Duchesse  du  Maine,  princess  of 
the  blood,  was  concerned.  But  the  countess  was 
younger  and  prettier,  which  displeased  the  duch- 
ess. She  was  infinitely  more  charming,  too,  and 
without  that  great  lady's  pretension  to  the  reputa- 
tion of  a  be  I  esprit  and  fan  me  savantc. 

The  park  and  forest  of  Rambouillet  were  of 
great  extent  ;  and  as  the  king  was  already  fond  of 
the  chase,  he  was  a  frequent  visitor  at  the  chateau. 
His  youthful  fiancee  was,  no  doubt,  placed  there  on 
that  account,  as  well  as  because  the  home  of  the 
Comte  de  Toulouse  and  his  wife  was  one  of  con- 
jugal fidelity  and  happiness,  of  which  instances 
were  rare  indeed  in  the  society  of  that  period. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

Madame  de  Tencin. —  Gambling  at  the  Hotel  Tencin.  —  A  Terri- 
ble Reputation.  —  "  Le  Grand  Cyrus."  —  "  Le  Comte  de 
Comminges." — A  Delighted  Audience.  —  Voltaire  on  His 
Knees. — Destouches  and  Marivaux.  —  Veteran  Leaders  of 
Society.  —  The  Literary  Menagerie.  —  Madame  de  Tencin's 
Suppers.  —  Up  to  the  Ankles  in  Mud.  —  Fontenelle's  Mis- 
take. 

|N  the  midst  of  fine  gardens,  adjoining 
the  extensive  ones  of  the  hotel  of  the 
wealthy  financier,  Samuel  Bernard,  in 
the  Place  des  Victoires,  there  stood,  at  the  time 
of  the  regency,  a  very  handsome  residence,  known 
as  1' Hotel  Tencin.  It  belonged  to  Guerin  de 
Tencin,  Archeveque  d'Embrun,  and  Charge-d' Af- 
faires de  l'Eglise,  a  Rouen.  To  these  high  eccle- 
siastical dignities  Tencin  had  been  recently  raised 
by  the  new  Cardinal  Archbishop  Dubois,  whom 
the  regent  had  made  first  minister  of  state.  Few 
are  said  to  have  shown  less  respect  for  the  priestly 
character  than  Archbishop  Tencin.  But  he  was 
a  man  of  considerable  talent,  and  his  arguments 
had  gone  far  to  wring  from  Cardinal  de  Noailles 
an  unwilling  acceptance  of  the  terrible  Bull ; 
therefore  his  election  by  Dubois. 

Madame  Alexandrine  Guerin  de  Tencin  did  the 

i43 


144  THE    OLD   REGIME 

honours  of  her  brother's  hotel,  and  her  salon  was 
one  of  the  most  famous  of  the  regency  and  early 
part  of  the  reign  of  Louis  XV.  Imitating  the 
great  Cardinal  de  Richelieu  in  the  salon  of 
Marion  de  l'Orme,  the  Cardinal  Dubois  established 
his  literary  police  in  the  salon  of  Madame  de 
Tencin. 

This  lady,  so  witty,  so  pleasing,  receiving  her 
guests  so  graciously,  yet  less  with  the  air  of  the 
mistress  of  the  house  than  with  a  certain  graceful 
diffidence,  as  of  a  sister  dependent  on  her  brother, 
the  archbishop,  was  one  of  the  most  finished  of 
intrigantes.  Destined  from  childhood  for  the 
cloister,  she  was  brought  up  in  the  Convent  of 
Grenoble,  and  entered  on  her  novitiate  at  the 
usual  age;  but  her  repugnance  to  monastic  life 
was  so  intense  and  persistent  that,  instead  of  tak- 
ing the  veil,  she  was  allowed  to  leave  the  convent, 
and  become  chanoinesse  of  Neuville,  near  Lyons. 
Soon  after,  she  appeared  in  the  beau  monde  of 
Paris,  and  figured  very  prominently  at  the  court 
of  the  regent,  amongst  such  belles  dames  as  les 
Marquises  et  Comtesses  de  Prie,  de  Parabere,  du 
Deffant,  d'Antragues,  and  others.  As  amie  intime 
of  Dubois,  she  had  been  the  means  of  securing 
preferment  for  her  brother,  who  had  himself  found 
favour  with  the  regent,  in  the  quality  of  political 
spy.  Both  brother  and  sister,  as  well  as  their 
patron  Dubois,  had  profited  largely  by  the  Sys- 
teme  Law. 


GAMBLING   AT   THE  HOTEL    TENCIN      1 45 

There  was  yet  another  Hotel  Tencin,  with  fine 
grounds  reaching  to  the  gardens  of  the  Capucine 
Convent  —  the  space  now  occupied  by  the  Rue  de 
la  Paix.  This  was  the  property  of  Madame  de 
Tencin,  and  before  her  brother's  elevation  her 
salon  was  held  there.  While  Law  was  Contro- 
leur-general,  gambling  went  on  at  this  hotel  to  an 
immense  extent.  Fortunes  changed  hands  there 
more  than  once  in  the  course  of  an  evening,  and, 
in  passing  from  one  to  another,  a  large  share  often 
fell  into  the  lap  of  the  lady  who  presided. 

She  speculated  largely,  and  risked  her  valuable 
shares  in  the  Royal  Bank,  apparently  with  extra- 
ordinary recklessness ;  but  her  lucky  star  was 
always  in  the  ascendant,  thanks  to  the  private  in- 
formation she  received  from  headquarters.  Mon- 
tesquieu and  Voltaire  were  less  fortunate  when 
they  yielded  to  the  general  allurement.  This 
makes  them  so  bitter  when  referring,  not  to 
Madame  de  Tencin,  in  whose  salon  they  were 
often  to  be  found,  but  to  the  famous  Systeme 
itself. 

Madame  was  desirous  of  being  reputed  firm  in 
her  friendships,  but  a  terrible  enemy.  The  sobri- 
quet of  " religieuse  difroquie"  had  been  applied  tc 
her,  and  it  was  said  that  "  were  it  to  her  interest 
to  poison  a  friend,  she  would  do  it ;  but  in  the 
politest  and  gentlest  way  possible."  Strange 
tales,  too,  were  afloat  of  dark  deeds  done  in  her 
hotel.      But  we  know  that  it  was  the  fashionable 


I46  THE    OLD   REGIME 

mania  of  the  beau  monde  of  the  regency  to  exag- 
gerate its  vices ;  as  though  the  round  unvarnished 
tale  of  its  doings  were  not  vicious  enough.  So 
that  we  are  compelled  to  believe  that  that  libertine 
circle,  like  a  certain  great  potentate,  was  not  so 
black  as  it  was  painted,  and  painted  by  itself. 
At  all  events,  Madame  Tencin  was  rich  at  the 
time  now  referred  to.  That  would  have  absolved 
her,  whatever  misdeeds  she  had  been  guilty  of; 
though  society  could  in  any  case  hardly  cast 
stones  at  her  —  nor  did  it,  for  her  salon  was  one 
of  the  most  brilliant  of  the  period. 

Like  that  of  Madame  de  Lambert  it  was  con- 
sidered un  salon  de  la  haute  litterature  ;  but  more 
philosophical,  more  libertine.  Montesquieu,  Fon- 
tenelle,  Le  Marquis  de  Pont-de-Veyle,  and  his 
brother  le  Comte  d'Argental  (the  last  two  her 
nephews),  were  of  the  number  of  her  guests.  She 
had  written  some  three  or  four  short  tales,  or 
romances,  of  a  sentimental  kind.  All  of  them  at 
the  time  of  their  appearance  were  favourably  re- 
ceived, both  by  her  own  circle  and  by  the  beau 
monde  generally.  "  Le  Comte  de  Comminges " 
had  the  greatest  reputation.  La  Harpe  has  con- 
sidered it  not  inferior  to  "  La  Princesse  de 
Cleves  "  of  Madame  de  la  Fayette.  Indeed,  the 
writings  of  those  ladies  were  bound  up  together 
in  an  edition  issued  in  Paris  in  1786  or  1787. 

Those  who  have  dipped  into  those  lackadaisical 
tales  will  surely  be  of  the  opinion  that  they  are 


"LE    GRAXD    CYRUS"  1 47 

worthily  united.  One  may  be  led  on,  if  interested 
in  the  period,  to  wade  through  the  ten  portly 
volumes  of  Mdlle.  de  Scudery's  "Grand  Cyrus," 
being  certain  that,  while  accomplishing  that  feat,  a 
considerable  knowledge  of  the  social  life  of  the 
early  half  of  the  seventeenth  century  has  been 
acquired,  and  acquaintance  made  with  most  of  the 
celebrities  of  that  epoch.  But  the  sickly  senti- 
mentality of  La  Fayette  and  Tencin  is  too  over- 
powering. Should  a  dose  of  it  ever  be  taken, 
another  of  sal  volatile,  as  a  corrective,  should 
always  be  ready  at  hand,  for  of  volatility  there  is 
less  than  none  in  "  Les  Chagrins  d'Amour,"  "  Le 
Comte  de  Comminges,"  etc. 

Nevertheless,  the  last-named  story  is  said  to 
have  once  had  a  singular  effect  on  a  crowded 
salon  of  ladies  and  philosophers  assembled  to 
hear  Madame  de  Tencin  read  it.  The  lady  her- 
self, calm  and  unmoved,  read  on  to  the  end  of  the 
tale,  her  well-modulated  voice  giving  due  emphasis 
to  its  heartrending  love  passages ;  her  audience, 
meanwhile,  being  profoundly  silent.  She  felt  the 
compliment  and  exerted  herself  to  deserve  it. 

As,  with  deep  pathos,  she  pronounced  the  last 
words,  she  raised  her  eyes  from  her  manuscript 
with  an  expression  of  grateful  thanks,  expecting 
to  meet  those  of  her  friends  suffused  with  tears. 
What,  then,  was  her  astonishment,  her  indignation, 
to  find  that  scarcely  an  eye  was  open  ?  The  nu- 
merous assembly  was  for  the  greater  part  wrapped 


148  THE    OLD   REGIME 

iii  peaceful  slumber.  The  few  that  were  not 
were  feebly  struggling  to  keep  open  the  lids  that 
Somnus  was  gradually  closing,  or  were  endeav- 
ouring to  hide  with  their  handkerchiefs  the  shame 
of  their  irrepressible  yawns.  Amusement  pre- 
vailed with  Madame  de  Tencin  over  her  first 
feeling  of  indignation  ;  and,  meanwhile,  the  cessa- 
tion of  the  dulcet  tones  that  had  so  soothing  an 
effect,  together  with  her  ringing  laugh,  aroused 
the  sleepers. 

"Charming  story!"  cried  one.  " Ravissant ! 
Madame  de  Tencin,  e'est  vraiment  ravissant" 
chimed  in  another. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said.  "I  shall  re-christen 
this  charming  story  and  call  on  all  present  to 
subscribe  to  the  propriety  of  its  new  title  —  'A 
Remedy  against  Sleeplessness.'  " 

"Ah!  Madame  de  Tencin,"  replied  Montes- 
quieu, "  I  perceive  that  you  are  alluding  to  me. 
Allow  me  to  assure  you,  allow  me  to  persuade 
you,  that  if  my  eyes,  as  you  may  have  remarked, 
were  momentarily  closed,  they  were  not  closed  in 
sleep." 

"Of  course  not!"  cried  the  rest  of  the  com- 
pany;  "Madame  de  Tencin  cannot  think  so." 

"  Now,  don't  look  incredulous.  Believe  me  it 
was  merely  to  allow  the  mind,  by  the  exclusion  of 
outward  objects,  to  dwell  upon  and  enjoy  more 
completely  those  exquisitely  impassioned  ideas 
with  which  you  have  endowed  your  hero,  and  the 


VOLTAIRE    ON  HIS   KXEES  1 49 

beauty  of  the  language  in  which  he  expresses 
them." 

"  Of  course!  "  again  echoed  the  company. 

"  Usbeck,"  *  she  replied,  laughingly,  "shall 
make  it  the  subject  of  another  Persian  letter. 
He  shall  declare  that  it  would  have  pleased  him 
much,  but  for  its  overpowering  effect  on  his  eye- 
lids. And  let  all  here  confess  the  same.  Now 
confess,  confess,  and  I  will  pardon  you  all,  and 
the  archbishop  shall  give  you  absolution.  I  except 
Fontenelle,  his  eyes  were  open,  if  his  ears  were 
closed.  And  so  were  those  of  my  fair  Haidee,  f 
though  I  imagine  the  Chevalier  \  worked  that 
miracle." 

All  the  beaux  esprits  and  rising  literary  men  of 
the  time  were  diligent  frequenters  of  the  salon  of 
Madame  de  Tencin.  Voltaire,  of  course,  had  gone 
on  his  knees  to  her.  It  was  his  habit,  from  youth 
to  old  age  (Grimm  says,  "  His  breeches  always 
bore  marks  of  it  " ),  to  cast  himself  prostrate  before 
beauty  and  esprit,  whether  combined  or  separate. 
If  either  was  wanting,  he  imagined  it  present,  as 
in  those  strange  lines  to  Mdme.  clu  Chatelet : 

"  Ecoutez,  respectable  Emilie, 
Vous  etes  belle ;  ainsi  done  la  moitie 
Du  genre  humain  sera  votre  ennemie." 

*  One  of  the  personages  of  Montesquieu's  "Lettres  Persanes." 
A  satire  on  the  regency. 

t  La  belle  Circassienne,  Mdlle.  AYsse. 

|  Her  lover,  the  Chevalier  d'Aidye — Chevalier  de  l'Ordre  de 
Malte. 


I50  THE    OLD   REGIME 

A  pure  poetical  fiction,  and  a  ludicrous  one  to 
those  acquainted  with  this  colossal  belle. 

Destouches,  the  dramatist,  who  had  at  least 
achieved  one  sensational  success  in  his  comedy 
of  "  Le  Glorieux,"  was  a  constant  habitue  of 
this  literary  salon.  Marivaux  also,  a  protege'  of 
Madame,  ever  torturing  his  wits  to  make  a  telling 
epigram  of  every  sentence  he  uttered. 

To  her  efforts,  in  some  degree,  was  owing  a 
certain  short-lived  vogue  which  his  pieces  oc- 
casionally obtained.  They  are  bombastic,  and 
affected  in  style.  Nevertheless,  Marivaux  evi- 
dently was  an  observer  of  society.  His  conceit 
and  pretentiousness  are  scarcely  less  evident. 
Yet  one  may  detect  in  his  plays  the  prevailing 
feeling  of  the  time  in  the  effort  he  makes  to  show 
that  the  reputed  best  sentiments  of  human  nature 
are  but  vanity ;  that  those  who  put  faith  in 
them  are  the  dupes  of  their  own  hearts,  all  that 
seemingly  is  so  estimable  in  the  character,  so 
praiseworthy  in  the  conduct,  being  a  mere  mask 
to  conceal  selfish  ends. 

Madame  cle  Tencin  was  particularly  zealous  in 
her  endeavours  to  forward  the  literary  and  social 
career  of  those  young  men  who  made  their  debut, 
as  it  was  termed,  in  her  salon.  It  was  a  custom 
of  that  time  for  ladies  who,  in  early  years,  had 
filled  a  distinguished  position  in  society,  to  seek  to 
continue  their  influence  beyond  that  melancholy 
period  (in  France  the  terrible  quarantaine)  when 


VETERAN  LEADERS   OE  SOCIETY  I  5  I 

the  last  flickering  gleams  of  youth  and  beauty  are 
fading  away.  They  erected  for  themselves  a  new 
empire,  as  it  were,  formed  a  new  and  attractive 
salon,  and,  as  they  advanced  in  years,  became  the 
oracles  of  polite  society.  The  youthful  noblesse 
and  young  men  of  fortune  frequented  their  cerclcs 
"pour  se  former"  as  the  phrase  went  ;  as  also 
pour  s'atnuser.  To  succeed  in  the  good  graces  of 
one  of  these  veteran  leaders  of  the  beau  moude, 
was  to  secure  "tin  brevet  tf  elegance,  ct  dc  savoir 
vwre." 

Francois  Marie  Arouet,  so  annoyed  at  not  being 
born  gcntilhommc,  as  Voltaire*  acquired  in  the 
salons  the  manners  of  one,  and  very  early,  "faisait 
le gentilhomme  de  lettrcs."  There  were  others  — 
Piron  and  Crebillon,  for  instance  —  to  whom  the 
cabaret  was  a  more  congenial  resort.  The  latter, 
rough  and  bearish  ;  the  former,  witty,  but  of  low, 
convivial  tastes,  and  often  launching  an  epigram 
at  this  beau  monde  of  learning.  Equally  would 
they  have  felt  out  of  place  in  the  elegant  salon  of 
Madame  de  Tencin,  who  was  one  of  those  women 
who  took  the  haut  pas  in  literary  circles.  Not- 
withstanding her  sentimental  novelettes,  she  was 
"  itn  bel  esprit  profond"    far   more  vivacious  and 

*  The  name  of  Voltaire  is  probably  derived  from  a  very  small 
property  —  la  ferme  de  Veautaire — -in  the  district  of  Asnieres- 
sur-Oise,  about  ten  leagues  from  Paris,  and  which  Voltaire  in- 
herited from  a  cousin ;  changing  Veautaire  into  Voltaire,  for 
euphony's  sake,  when  assuming  the  name. 


152  THE    OLD   REGIME 

brilliant    than    Madame   du    Deffant,    and   having 
none  of  her  real  or  affected  fits  of  ennui. 

Singularly  enough,  however,  Madame  de  Tencin 
gave  her  distinguished  circle  of  wits  and  literati 
the  name  of  the  menagerie.  Stranger  still,  she 
put  her  learned  betes  into  a  sort  of  livery.  And 
they  did  not  regard  it,  apparently,  as  infra  dig.  to 
accept  from  her  every  year,  as  their  etrennes, 
three  ells  of  velvet  each,  for  a  new  culotte.  Be- 
sides, she  gave  them,  three  times  a  week,  and  all 
the  year  round,  a  splendid  supper  —  a  supper  that 
was  renowned,  even  in  those  days  of  rccherchcs 
petits  soupcrs,  and  pure,  sparkling  and  iced  cham- 
pagne. 

Montesquieu  and  Fontenelle  she  distinguished 
as  her  "  betes  par  excellence."  Fontenelle  appears 
to  have  supped  everywhere.  He  dined  every 
Thursday  at  Madame  de  Lambert's,  elsewhere 
probably  on  other  days,  and  took  his  "  the  a 
I'Anglaise  "  (then  beginning  to  be  fashionable)  in 
any  salon  where  he  found  it  introduced.  He 
allowed  nothing  in  the  world  to  ruffle  the  placidity 
of  his  temper,  and  carefully  guarded  against  any 
disturbing  emotions. 

Once  a  friend  died  suddenly  sitting  beside  him. 
He  quietly  desired  his  servants  to  remove  him, 
and  there  was  an  end  of  it.  By  thus  preserving 
the  even  tenor  of  his  life,  he  coaxed  on  a  weak 
constitution,  year  after  year,  until  he  had  eked  out 
a  hundred.      He  was  already  as  deaf  as  a  post,  but 


ffontenelle 


FOXTJ.XELLE'S  MISTAKE  153 

it  amused  his  mind  to  see  what  was  going  on  if 
he  could  not  hear ;  so  that  there  was  no  more 
constant  frequenter  of  the  salons  than  "  le  vieux 
Fontenelle."  The  one  misfortune  of  his  deafness 
was  that  he  always  fancied  he  or  his  works  were 
the  subject  of  conversation,  and  it  was  fatiguing 
to  make  him  hear  and  believe  that  he  was  under 
a  mistake. 

Mairan,  being  of  the  company  assembled  at 
Madame  de  Tencin's  one  evening,  was  relating  a 
story  of  a  peasant  on  a  friend's  estate  who  had 
greatly  bewailed  the  death  of  a  fellow-workman 
who  had  fallen  into  a  ditch  and  was  suffocated. 
"The  mud  was  so  deep,"  he  said,  "that  it  reached 
nearly  to  his  ankles."  "  Surely,  then,"  answered 
the  master,  "  he  could  have  stepped  out  of  it,  or 
you  might  have  assisted  him  to  do  so."  "Surely, 
as  you  say,  I  might,"  replied  the  man,  "  if  he  had 
not  fallen  into  it  headforemost."  The  peasant's 
naive  remark  on  his  companion's  misfortune  raised 
general  laughter.  Fontenelle,  however,  very 
gravely  said,  "  I  perceive  that  M.  Mairan  is  talk- 
ing of  my  works." 

This  renewed  the  laughter.  "  My  '  Traite  des 
Mondes  '  does  not  please  him,  I  suppose,"  he  said, 
speaking  very  sulkily. 

La  Motte  undertook  the  task  of  explaining  to 
him  the  subject  of  conversation ;  but,  after  vocif- 
erating for  some  time  in  his  ears,  scarcely  con- 
vinced him  that  he  was  in  error,  and  that  his  well- 


154  THE    OLD   REGIME 

deserved  reputation  was  by  no  means  being  called 
in  question  by  the  friends  and  the  admirers  of  his 
genius  who  then  surrounded  him. 

Had  it  been  otherwise,  he  would  not  have  al- 
lowed their  censure  to  fret  him,  though  he  thought 
it  right  to  make  known  his  suspicions. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

Exuberant  Joy.  —  Dining  in  Public.  —  Public  Rejoicings. —  Loy- 
alty Still  Flourishes.  —  The  Marechal  de  Villeroi.  —  When 
Louis  XIV.  was  Young.  —  The  Majestic  Perruque.  —  A 
Grand  Seigneur  of  the  Old  Regime. —  Fireworks  of  the 
Eighteenth  Century.  —  The  Young  King's  Greeting.  —  The 
Grand  Bow  Louis  XIV. —  Villeroi  Dismissed. —  Un  Abbe 
Elegant.  —  The  Bishop  Retires  to  Issy.  —  Coronation  of 
Louis  XV. —  Death  of  Dubois.  —  Dubois's  Immense  Wealth. 
—  Political  Lessons. —  The  Regent  First  Minister.  —  Death 
of  the  Regent. 

HERE  are  crowds  in  the  Rue  St. 
Honore,  in  the  Rue  St.  Antoine  and 
the  Place  du  Carrousel.  One  might 
fancy  that  the  whole  population  of  Paris  was 
massed  together  in  that  vast  multitude  pressing 
around  the  Tuileries  and  filling  every  open  space 
near  it.  But  the  throng — and  a  joyous  throng  it 
seems  —  still  is  increasing,  every  narrow,  winding- 
street  and  crooked,  dark  alley  of  this  clear,  delight- 
ful, dirty,  old  city  sending  forth  its  contingent  to 
add  to  the  number. 

An  Englishman  well  might  wonder  whence  this 
swarming  multitude  came,  where  this  vast  assem- 
blage of  human  beings  found  shelter.  For  Paris 
was  never  allowed  to  straggle,  like  London,  in  all 
directions,  with  its  one  or  two-storeyed  houses.     It 

'55 


156  THE   OLD   REGIME 

had  to  shoot  upwards,  and,  as  its  population  in- 
creased, to  put  storey  upon  storey  to  the  extent  of 
eight  or  ten.  Some  say,  even  one  above  that ; 
perched  aloft  like  a  sky-raker  above  the  gallant- 
top-royal  sail  of  a  big  ship,  and  forming  almost  the 
only  breezy  dwelling-places  old  Paris  could  boast  of. 

Evidently  the  disasters  of  the  bygone  year  — 
disasters  so  great  that  even  Dubois  has  been  com- 
pelled to  say,  "  Something  must  be  done  for  the 
people  "  —  have  happily  been  followed  by  an  event 
of  unusual  interest,  some  alleviation  of  the  penury 
that  prevails,  some  promise  of  returning  national 
prosperity,  to  call  forth  such  general  rejoicing.  In 
the  exuberance  of  their  joy,  there  are  some  simple 
folks  who  warmly  embrace  any  stranger  they  meet, 
as  though  suddenly  encountering  long-lost  friends. 

Many  aj'o/ic  fillc,  too,  you  observe,  as  she  passes 
along,  is  startled  by  an  unexpected  embrace  from 
some  gay,  gallant  fellow.  Not  seldom  the  jolie  fille 
resents  this  freedom  with  a  vigour  that  makes  the 
offender's  ears  tingle,  and  deservedly  draws  upon 
him  the  laughter  and  witty  badinage  of  his  com- 
panions. But  it  is  a  good-tempered  crowd,  brimful 
of  life  and  spirits. 

The  Cafe  Procope  and  Cafe  de  la  Regence  are 
both  full  of  guests,  and  here,  as  elsewhere,  all  is 
gaiety  and  mirth.*     But  except  at  these  cafes,  and 

*  These  cafes  of  the  regency  were  the  first  cafes  established 
in  Paris,  and,  like  the  London  taverns  of  that  date,  were  much 
frequented  by  literary  men. 


D I  XING   IAr  PUBLIC  I  57 

among  the  noisy  itinerant  vendors  of  cocoa,  pastry 
and  sweets,  little  business  is  doing.  Paris  has 
heartily,  and  with  its  usual  abandon,  given  itself 
up  to  pleasure.  But  if  the  shops,  for  the  most 
part,  are  closed,  many  of  the  shopkeepers  have 
brought  out  their  tables  and  chairs,  and  are  taking 
their  dinner  al  fresco,  any  friend  chancing  to  pass 
being  pressed  to  sit  down  and  share  the  meal  with 
them. 

This  open-air  feasting  is  attended  with  difficul- 
ties, for  trottoirs  exist  not ;  the  streets  are  very 
narrow,  and  slope  down  on  either  side  towards  the 
gutter  in  the  centre.  But  the  will  to  dine  and  be 
hospitable  in  public  being  there,  the  way  to  do  so 
is  by  some  means  found  out.  "  Liberie,  egalitc, 
fratcrnite"  generally  prevail,  and,  practically,  to 
a  much  greater  extent  than  probably  they  will 
should  those  words,  now  fluttering  on  some  people's 
lips,  ever  become  the  national  motto. 

Uninterruptedly  these  public  rejoicings  have 
been  going  on  for  the  last  fifteen  days.  The 
Church  has,  of  course,  borne  its  part  in  them, 
preaching  endless  thanksgiving  sermons,  and 
chanting  numberless  Te  Deum.  However,  it  is 
beginning  to  be  the  general  opinion  that  there  has 
been  rejoicing  enough.  It  is  not  wise  to  take  an 
overdose,  even  of  a  good  thing.  So,  in  the  even- 
ing, all  is  to  terminate,  with  illuminations  and  fire- 
works, and  a  grand  fete  at  the  Tuileries.  Better 
than   all,  the  enthusiastic  people  are   in   hopes  of 


158  THE    OLD   REGIME 

getting  just  a  glimpse  of  their  king.     The  old  duke 

—  whose  attachment  to  his  youthful  sovereign  has 
secured  for  himself  the  attachment  of  the  people 

—  will  no  doubt  bring  him  out  on  the  balcony  to 
gladden  the  eyes  of  his  faithful  lieges. 

As  for  himself,  poor  boy,  the  ceremonial,  the 
etiquette,  and  the  fuss  that  surround  him,  weigh 
like  a  nightmare  on  his  spirits.  He  will  neither 
appear  in  the  balcony  nor  be  present  at  the  fete  if 
he  can  have  his  own  way.  He  would  rather  be 
milking  his  cow  or  digging  his  garden.  Nature, 
indeed,  seems  to  have  intended  that  a  spade  should 
be  put  in  his  hands,  when  Fortune,  in  her  lament- 
able blindness,  made  the  mistake  of  handing  him 
a  sceptre.  But  the  people,  always  so  hopeful,  are 
looking  forward  to  the  reign  of  Louis  XV.  for 
relief  from  those  burdens  which  the  regency  was 
to  have  removed.  His  majority  is  nigh  at  hand. 
But  a  boy  of  thirteen  cannot  of  course  be  expected 
to  take  sole  command  of  the  helm  of  state ;  until 
he  can  do  so,  the  people  have  faith  in  the  guidance 
of  Villeroi  and  Fleury. 

Philosophy  as  yet  has  appeared  only  in  the 
salons,  where  it  is  expanding  under  the  fostering 
care  of  fine  ladies.  Loyalty  still  flourishes  in 
France,  and  has  found  earnest  expression  in  the 
enthusiasm  with  which  the  nation  has  celebrated 
the  young  king's  restoration  to  health.  Equally 
did  it  appear  in  the  grief  and  anxiety  generally 
exhibited   while    it    seemed    probable  that  his  ill- 


THE   MARECHAL   DE    VILLEROI  1 59 

ness  would  terminate  fatally.  Ardent  suppliants 
crowded  the  churches,  and  the  nation  cried  to 
heaven,  "  Spare  our  king  !  "  He  is  spared  ;  and 
the  reaction  of  boundless  joy  has  followed  the 
anxious  fluctuations  of  hope  and  fear. 

As  usual,  suspicions  of  poisoning  were  rife. 
They  rested  on  the  head  of  Dubois,  who  had  sug- 
gested the  removal  of  the  royal  patient  from  Vin- 
cennes  to  more  airy  quarters  at  Versailles.  The 
suspicion  of  an  evil  intention  may  have  been 
groundless,  but  as  he  attributed  only  base  motives 
to  others,  he  could  not  complain  if  he  himself  was 
misjudged.  Had  the  king  died,  it  is  believed  that 
Dubois  could  not  have  escaped  with  life  from  the 
vengeance  of  the  infuriated  people.  It  is  singular 
that  neither  the  regent  nor  any  member  of  the 
government  contributed  anything  towards  the  ex- 
penses of  the  public  festival.  The  Due  de  Ville- 
roi,  from  his  own  private  purse,  shared  them  with 
the  municipality  of  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  and  even 
defrayed  the  cost  of  the  oft-repeated  prayers  of 
the  Church  and  the  Te  Deum. 

The  old  marechal,  Due  de  Villeroi,  un  trh  grand 
seigneur,  in  his  day  a  very  handsome  man,  and 
still  (remember  he  has  passed  his  eightieth  year) 
of  noble  presence,  is  in  manner  a  perfect  specimen 
of  the  galanteric  of  the  vieille  cour.  His  father 
was  governor  to  Louis  XIV.,  which  was  chiefly 
that  monarch's  reason  for  appointing  the  son,  who 
was  brought  up  with  him  to  the  same  post  in  the 


l6o  THE    OLD   REGIME 

household  of  his  successor.  The  old  duke  is  not 
so  contemptible  a  personage  as  the  slanderous  pen 
of  Saint-Simon  represents  him.  He  is  probably 
somewhat  vainglorious,  and  his  heart  swells  with 
a  pardonable  pride  when  he  tells  of  that  brilliant 
time  when  he  and  Louis  XIV.  were  young.  He  per- 
ceives that  a  great  change  has  taken  place,  but  he 
perceives  no  improvement ;  and  his  views  are,  in 
that  respect,  shared  by  many. 

He,  too,  comforts  himself  with  the  hope  that 
much  good  is  laid  up  for  France  in  the  womb  of 
the  future.  But  his  hope  differs  from  that  of  the 
nation  in  that  it  is  based  on  his  own  constant  efforts 
to  train  up  his  youthful  charge  in  the  traditions  of 
the  grand  reign  of  the  Grand  Monarque,  with  a 
view  to  a  return  to  the  "Systeme  Antiquaille." 

How  keen  was  the  dear  old  marechal's  anxiety 
during  the  illness  of  young  Louis,  who  it  seems 
was  suffering  from  a  bad  sore  throat !  (It  would 
be  called  diphtheria  in  more  enlightened  days.) 
The  marechal  undertook  the  office  of  head  nurse, 
and  had  the  broths,  etc.,  made  only  by  confiden- 
tial people  of  his  own.  Yet,  with  all  his  vigilance, 
Madame  de  Parabere  contrived  to  slip  in  and  give 
the  sick  child  some  marmalade,  which  appears  to 
have  really  done  him  good.  It  was  in  grateful 
remembrance  of  this  and  various  other  surrepti- 
tious little  presents  of  bonbons  and  gauffrelcttcs, 
that  Louis  XV.  was  always  so  gracious  to  Madame 
de   Parabere,   even  when  the  court   circle  looked 


THE   MAJESTIC   TERKUQUE  l6l 

coldly  upon  her,  because,  having  lost  favour,  places 
and  pensions  were  no  longer  obtainable  through 
her  influence. 

But  the  marechal  is  now  as  jubilant  as  but  a 
few  weeks  ago  he  was  despondent  ;  and,  in  doing 
the  honours  of  this  grand  fete  in  celebration  of  the 
king's  recovery,  acquits  himself  with  admirable 
grace.  His  wrinkled  brow,  erst  so  careworn,  is 
now  smooth,  fair  and  polished ;  a  full  score  of 
years  seem  to  have  passed  away  from  it.  He  would 
have  liked  to  resume  the  "  majestucusc  pemtque  de 
Louis  XIV." — as  De  Tocqueville,  sighing  over 
its  abandonment,  regretfully  calls  it.  But  he 
knows  that  the  ladies  would  laugh  at  him,  and  the 
graceless  young  wits  make  epigrams  on  the  majes- 
tic wig.  So  he  contents  himself  with  the  paltry 
perruque  of  diminished  proportions  now  in  vogue, 
thoroughly  powdered  at  the  top,  and  the  ends 
gracefully  tied  up  in  a  bag  behind.  And  well  it 
becomes  his  venerable  yet  still  handsome  face. 

His  velvet  coat  is  elaborately  embroidered,  and 
the  lappels  of  his  long  satin  vest  the  same.  His 
ruffles  and  the  ends  of  his  cravat  are  of  point 
d ' Alcncon  of  the  finest  texture.  A  diamond  star 
forms  the  button  in  his  hat,  and  his  sword  has  a 
diamond-set  hilt.  Diamonds  fasten  at  the  knee 
his  puckered  satin  breeches,  diamond  buckles  his 
red-heeled  shoes,  and  the  grand  crosses  of  the 
Orders  of  the  Saint  Esprit  and  Saint  Louis  glit- 
ter in  rubies  and  diamonds  on  his  breast. 


1 62  THE    OLD   REGIME 

Stately  and  erect  stands  the  old  marechal  — 
a  perfect  picture  of  a  grand  seigneur  of  the  Old 
Regime.  He  leads  the  young  king  by  the  hand  to 
look  at  the  illuminated  gardens,  and  the  river  lighted 
up  by  some  hundreds  of  illuminated  boats,  ranged 
on  either  side  of  the  stream.  "Artificial  swans 
and  other  aquatic  birds  float  on  the  water."  "Sev- 
eral whales,  launched  from  behind  screens  or  sheds 
on  the  shore,  spout  fire  as  they  enter  the  stream." 

A  grand  display  of  fireworks  closes  the  fete. 
From  drawings  of  set  pieces  used  on  this  and 
other  occasions,  one  must  infer  that  the  French 
pyrotechnists  of  that  day  excelled  in  their  art. 
Yet  facilities  for  doing  so  were  few  compared 
with  those  afforded  by  the  chemical  discoveries 
and  mechanical  improvements  of  recent  times. 
It  is  probable,  however,  that  transparent  paintings 
were  frequently  employed  to  form  an  effective 
centre  to  a  border  of  fire.  But  whatever  they 
were,  they  gave  immense  satisfaction  to  the  people, 
who,  attracted  by  the  object  of  the  fete  in  question, 
came  from  far  and  near  to  see  them. 

Never,  perhaps,  at  any  other  period  of  his  life, 
was  Louis  XV.  so  truly  "  the  well-beloved  "  of  the 
nation.  How  dense  the  crowd  !  What  an  interest 
the  good  people  of  Paris  take  in  their  king !  Not 
only  in  the  streets  and  in  the  vicinity  of  the  palace, 
but  at  every  house,  heads,  two,  three,  in  rows, 
ranged  one  above  another,  peer  forth  from  every 
window.     The  top  of  every  wall  is  taken  posses- 


THE    YOUNG   KING'S    GREETING  1 63 

sion  of,  and  the  roofs  of  the  houses  are  crowded. 
No  slight  projection  where  a  foot  can  be  placed, 
no  piece  of  cornice  which  a  hand  can  grasp,  but 
finds  some  foolhardy  enthusiast  willing  to  risk  life 
and  limb  to  seize  upon  it,  fortunate,  indeed,  if 
the  only  result  of  his  scramble  be  that  he  sees, 
what  so  frequently  is  seen  by  scrambling  in  a  crowd 
—  nothing  at  all  of  what  he  looked  for. 

"  Voila  le  vieux  marccJial!"  exclaim  several 
voices,  the  closely  packed  mass  of  human  beings 
beginning  to  move  excitedly. 

"Ah!  il  nous  mine  le  petit  roi!"  is  shrieked  in 
a  woman's  voice. 

"Au  diable  ces fannies !  que  vie  nnent-e  lies  f aire 
ici?"  says  somebody,  striving  to  elbow  the  woman 
out  of  her  place,  in  order  to  fill  it  more  worthily 
himself.  He  sees  that  the  marechal  is  leading  the 
king  into  the  balcony. 

Yes,  both  are  there,  hand  in  hand,  representing 
the  threshold  of  life  and  the  brink  of  the  grave. 
Louis  is  a  handsome  boy ;  rather  small  for  his  age, 
as  was  Louis  XIV.,  who,  from  about  his  thirteenth 
year,  sprang  up  apace  —  as  this  boy,  probably,  will 
do.  He  looks  well  in  his  white-plumed  hat  and 
embroidered  blue  velvet  dress.  His  beautiful  hair 
flows  in  its  natural  curls,  unconfined  by  black 
riband  and  bag,  and  free  from  the  starch-powder 
with  which  old  and  young  are  now  so  lavishly 
dusted.  His  jewels  and  grand  crosses  make  a 
glittering    show.       He   wears,   you    perceive,    the 


1 64  THE    OLD   REGIME 

"Sancy"  in  his  hat.  Its  scintillation  is  wonderful, 
as  the  flickering  lights  in  the  balcony  and  the  gleams 
from  the  illuminated  trees  fall  upon  it. 

The  people  greet  their  young  monarch  with 
hearty  enthusiasm.  The  air  rings  with  a  cry  of 
delight  from  thousands  of  voices.  It  is,  doubtless, 
a  gladdening  sound  to  the  heart  of  the  old  duke, 
but  its  suddenness  and  wildness  startle  the  child. 
He  seems  to  be  appealing  to  his  governor ;  then, 
advancing  a  step,  raises  his  hat  with  much  grace. 
(Villeroi  has  taught  him  the  grand  bow  Louis 
Ouatorze.) 

Louder,  far  louder  than  before,  is  the  people's 
responsive  burst  of  joy.  The  duke  drops  the 
king's  hand.  Louis,  released,  seizes  the  opportu- 
nity of  escaping,  with  a  rush,  from  the  terrible  din. 
Though  somewhat  disconcerted,  the  duke  turns 
with  a  benignant  air  towards  the  admiring  multi- 
tude, and,  with  a  certain  dignified  condescension 
that  should  surely  atone  for  the  want  of  ceremony 
in  royalty's  departure,  raises  his  hat,  bends  slightly 
forward,  then  decamps  to  discover  the  hiding-place 
of  his  king. 

The  king  has  taken  refuge  in  the  Salle  des 
Gardes,  and  is  reposing  in  a  chair  in  a  quiet 
corner.  The  noise  and  excitement  of  the  almost 
delirious  multitude  surrounding  the  Tuileries  so 
agitated  him  that  he  was  seized  with  giddiness  in 
the  head.  He  declared  "  QiJil  iiy  pouvait  plus 
tenir"     However,  he  was  sufficiently  himself  again 


V1LLER0I  DISMISSED  165 

in  the  course  of  half  an  hour  to  gratify  the  ear- 
nestly vociferated  prayer  of  the  frantic  people  that 
the  marechal  would  again  gladden  their  eyes  with 
a  sight  of  their  king.  Yielding,  therefore,  to  these 
coaxing  words  —  "Mon  maitrc,  mon  cJicr  maitre ! 
come  now,  show  yourself  just  for  a  moment,  only 
one  moment  to  your  good  people  of  Paris,  who  love 
you  so  much,  and  are  so  longing  to  see  you!  "■ — 
he  gave  his  hand  to  his  governor,  stepped  out  on 
the  balcony,  and  received  the  reward  of  his  conde- 
scension in  another  uproarious  ovation. 

Not  long  after  the  Marechal  de  Villeroi  had 
given  so  signal  a  proof  of  his  loyalty  and  attach- 
ment to  the  young  king,  he  was  dismissed  to  his 
government.  His  exaggerated  fears  lest  the  king 
should  be  poisoned  made  him  unwilling  to  allow 
even  the  regent  to  see  him  at  any  time  unless  he 
were  present  at  the  interview.  The  regent,  much 
annoyed,  resented  this,  and  insisted  on  his  leaving 
the  apartment.  Later  in  the  day  an  officer  ar- 
rived with  a  lettre-de-cachet,  when,  to  his  extreme 
mortification,  the  old  duke  was  obliged  at  once  to 
step  into  the  carriage  waiting  for  him,  and  proceed 
to  Bayonne,  there  to  remain  until  further  orders. 

The  Due  de  Charost  was  appointed  to  succeed 
to  the  post  of  governor.  But  the  king  took  Vil- 
leroi's  departure  greatly  to  heart.  Whatever  he 
felt,  he  rarely  exhibited  any  violent  emotion.  On 
this  occasion  he  laid  his  face  against  the  back  of 
a  chair  and  silently  wept.      He  would  not  eat,  he 


1 66  THE    OLD  REGIME 

would  not  speak.  When  entreated  to  go  out,  or 
to  amuse  himself  in  some  way,  he  refused,  and 
remained  awake,  weeping  and  sobbing,  the  whole 
night  through.  Still  further  to  increase  his  dis- 
tress, he  learned  the  next  morning  that  his  pre- 
ceptor also  had  left. 

Between  the  duke  and  the  bishop  there  existed 
a  friendship  of  very  long  standing.  It  dated,  in- 
deed, from  the  time  when  Fleury  —  a  remarkably 
handsome  man,  with  a  fondness,  which  with  ex- 
cellent taste  he  ever  retained,  for  ladies'  society  — 
was  favourably  received  as  "un  abbe  elegant"  and 
a  desperate  flirt,  in  the  boudoir  circle  of  Madame 
de  Villeroi.  She  was  considerably  younger  than 
the  duke.  But  of  course  her  flirting  days  were 
now  over.  Not  exactly  (so  scandal  whispered) 
were  those  of  Fleury.  Yet  though  he  did  not 
now  flirt  with  the  duchess,  they  remained  very 
firm  friends.  It  was  probably,  therefore,  as  much 
for  her  sake  as  for  the  duke's  that,  at  the  time  of 
their  appointment  as  preceptor  and  governor,  he 
had  entered  into  a  mutual  promise  with  the  duke 
that,  if  either  was  dismissed  from  his  post  by  the 
regent,  the  other  should  resign. 

Consequently,  as  soon  as  the  duke  was  exiled, 
the  bishop  hastened  away  to  his  little  estate  at 
Issy,  thence  intending,  probably,  to  send  in  his 
resignation.  He  took  no  leave  of  his  royal  pupil, 
as  he  may  have  foreseen  that  the  separation  would 
be    but   a    short    one.      And    just    so    it    proved. 


THE  BISHOP  RETIRES    TO   ISSY  \6j 

Louis  regretted  his  fussy,  but  kind  old  governor; 
but  Fleury,  so  amiable  and  estimable,  if  far  too 
indulgent,  had  stood  towards  him  in  the  place  of 
a  parent,  and  had  gained  his  affection  as  such. 
His  grief,  his  despair,  was  so  great  when  informed 
that  he  was  absent,  and  did  not,  it  was  supposed, 
intend  to  return,  that  he  was  pacified  only  by  the 
immediate  dispatch  of  a  messenger  to  Issy,  with 
a  letter  from  himself,  requiring  the  bishop  imme- 
diately to  come  back  to  Vincennes. 

Of  course  he  did  not  refuse  obedience  to  the 
royal  command;  and  friendship  —  even  for  an  old 
flame  —  could  not  have  asked  it  of  him.  The 
preceptor  was  received  by  his  pupil  with  open 
arms,  and  with  signs  of  joy  more  evident  than  had 
ever  been  observed  in  him  before.  The  Due  de 
Charost  took  the  opportunity  of  making  himself 
agreeable  to  the  young  king  by  appearing  to 
share  in  his  joy,  and  the  banished  duke  had  the 
mortification  of  knowing  that  he  was  not  so  neces- 
sary to  the  happiness  of  his  king  as  he  had  fondly 
supposed. 

The  regent,  from  his  mode  of  life,  had  become 
more  and  more  indisposed  to  be  troubled  with 
cares  of  state.  Therefore,  shortly  after  he  had 
roused  himself  to  resent  with  so  much  harshness, 
though  naturally  disposed  to  leniency,  the  foolish 
suspicions  of  the  old  marechal,  he  appointed  Du- 
bois first  minister  —  in  fact,  gave  up  the  regency 
into  his  hands,  that  he  might   be  more  fully  at 


1 68  THE    OLD   REGIME 

liberty  to  devote  himself  entirely  to  his  pleasures. 
From  the  despotic  manner  in  which  the  cardinal 
immediately  began  to  exercise  his  newly  acquired 
power,  it  was  very  soon  perceived  that  his  ambi- 
tious aims  were  not  yet  satisfied,  and  that  he 
would  not  scruple,  in  order  successfully  to  realize 
them,  to  sacrifice  the  regent  himself. 

On  the  26th  of  October,  1722,  Louis  XV.  was 
crowned  at  Rheims  with  much  pomp  and  cere- 
mony. Comte  d'Argenson  at  this  time  compared 
him,  in  appearance,  to  Cupid.  Yet  Cupid  envel- 
oped in  a  gold-embroidered,  ermine-lined  mantle  of 
state,  with  the  crown  of  Charlemagne  on  his  head, 
and  bearing  a  sceptre  and  "hand  of  justice," 
would  surely  be  rather  overdressed  —  his  usual 
costume  being  so  scanty  —  rarely  anything  more 
than  a  pair  of  wings,  a  quiver  full  of  arrows,  and 
his  bow.  Dubois  made  a  great  figure  on  this  oc- 
casion, taking  his  place  in  the  cavalcade  amongst 
the  highest  nobles  in  the  land.  On  the  22nd  of 
February  following,  the  king  being  then  thirteen 
years  and  twelve  days  old,  a  lit-de-justice  was  held, 
and  he  was  publicly  declared  of  age. 

Dubois,  it  would  seem,  needed  only  opportunity 
to  prove  himself  capable  of  greater  things  than 
hitherto  he  had  been  supposed  to  be.  The  re- 
gent's power  at  an  end,  he  gave  promise  of  becom- 
ing a  most  able  minister  of  state,  and  desirous  of 
adapting  his  conduct  to  the  dignity  of  his  position. 
But  a  long  course  of  dissipation  had  undermined 


DUBOIS'S  IMMENSE    WEALTH  1 69 

his  constitution,  and  he  died  on  the  10th  of  Au- 
gust, 1723,  in  his  sixty-seventh  year,  a  few  hours 
after  enduring  the  agony  of  a  painful  operation. 
He  either  refused  the  sacraments  of  the  Church, 
or  on  some  frivolous  pretext  eluded  partaking  of 
them. 

The  wealth  amassed  by  Dubois  during  his  short 
tenure  of  power  was  enormous.  Besides  a  large 
sum  of  money  in  his  strong  box,  he  possessed 
costly  furniture  and  a  quantity  of  gold  and  silver 
plate  of  the  most  artistic  workmanship,  precious 
stones  of  rare  beauty  and  value,  sumptuous  equi- 
pages, and  (then  most  envied  of  all,  by  the  noblesse) 
the  largest  and  finest  stud  in  France.  Rich  ab- 
bayes  and  lucrative  appointments  and  places,  both 
civil  and  ecclesiastical  —  lavishly  bestowed  on  him- 
self —  brought  him  an  immense  revenue  in  addi- 
tion to  his  large  pension  for  promoting  the  politi- 
cal views  of  England  with  reference  to  France. 
He  had,  doubtless,  dreamed  of  living  yet  many 
years  to  enjoy  this  vast  wealth,  and  of  outvying,  in 
ostentatious  splendour  and  the  magnitude  of  their 
power,  both  Richelieu  and  Mazarin. 

This  was  at  a  time  when  the  state,  still  suffer- 
ing from  the  ruinous  results  of  the  "  Systeme 
Law,"  could  neither  pay  the  salaries  of  its  officers 
nor  the  annuities  of  its  pensioners.  But  having 
provided  liberally  for  himself,  Dubois  had  some 
project  in  petto,  which  was  to  restore  the  credit  of 
the  government,  and  gradually  to  refill  its  coffers. 


I70  THE    OLD   REGIME 

Meanwhile,  he  had  very  judiciously  arranged, 
for  the  instruction  of  the  young  king,  a  series  of 
what  may  be  termed  political  lessons.  They  took 
place  at  Versailles  three  times  a  week ;  and,  to 
impress  upon  him  their  importance,  a  certain  eti- 
quette was  prescribed  for  them.  An  arm-chair 
was  placed  for  his  majesty  at  the  centre  of  a 
table.  On  his  right  sat  the  regent ;  on  his  left 
Monsieur  le  Due.  Opposite,  on  a  folding  seat,  sat 
Dubois,  the  Bishop  of  Frejus  on  one  side,  the  Due 
de  Charost  on  the  other,  also  seated  on  " pliants" 

But  it  was  difficult  to  awaken  an  interest  in  so 
dry  a  theme  in  the  mind  of  a  youth  who  had  not 
been  trained  in  habits  of  application,  and  who  was, 
besides,  indolently  disposed.  He  listened  to  the 
subject  laid  before  him  with  an  air  of  lazy  resig- 
nation to  his  fate,  occasionally  glancing  at  Fleury, 
as  though  seeking  in  his  benignant  face  consola- 
tion and  sympathy  to  enable  him  to  hold  out  to 
the  end  of  the  seance.  He  asked  for  no  explana- 
tion, yet  gave  no  signs  of  understanding,  or  indeed 
of  heeding  the  questions  discussed.  Nevertheless, 
it  is  probable  that  the  political  acumen  which  he  is 
said  to  have  exhibited  in  after  years,  when  amus- 
ing himself  with  his  secret  diplomacy,  may  have 
been  acquired  at  this  time. 

The  regent,  according  to  some  writers,  regretted 
Dubois  ;  others  say  that  he  jested  when  he  heard 
of  his  death,  exclaiming,  "  Enfin  done  le  diable  a 
eviporte  mon  drole!     But  his  own  health  was  in  a 


DEATH   OF   THE   REGENT  171 

very  precarious  state ;  his  face  had  become  of  a 
purple  red,  a  sort  of  stupor  often  overcame  him, 
and  his  head  was  bowed  forward  on  his  chest. 
Everything  so  disgusted  him,  that  he  was  scarcely 
capable  of  either  fretting  or  jesting. 

He,  however,  assumed  Dubois's  post  of  first  min- 
ister ;  made  an  effort  to  reform  his  mode  of  life  ; 
and,  in  order  not  to  set  a  bad  example  to  the 
young  king,  who  now  sojourned  more  frequently  at 
the  Tuileries,  he  even,  we  learn,  went  so  far  in 
his  reform  as  to  content  himself  with  but  one 
maitrcssc-cn-titrc,  Madame  d'Antragues  —  in  the 
Roman  states,  Duchesse  de  Falari.  She  was  the 
wife  of  a  financier,  to  whom  Clement  XL,  for 
some  service  of  a  financial  nature,  had  given  the 
title  of  duke. 

But  the  excesses  of  the  petits  soupcrs  still  went 
on,  and  the  regent  drank  the  usual  quantity  of  his 
favourite  vin  d'Ai.  His  physicians  warned  him 
that  dropsy  or  apoplexy  would  be  the  result  of 
his  intemperance.  "  Not  dropsy,"  he  said  ;  "  it  is 
too  lingering ;  death  stares  one  in  the  face  too 
long,  and  I  had  hoped  to  meet  death  from  a  cannon- 
ball  on  the  battle-field."  And  a  death  as  sudden 
was  granted  him.  Sitting  beside  the  Duchesse  de 
Falari,  he  suddenly  exclaimed,  "Madelon!  Made- 
Ion! — sanvcz  moi"  and  fell  dead  at  her  feet. 

No  physician  was  at  hand.  A  lackey  in  attend- 
ance opened  a  vein  with  a  penknife ;  but  the  re- 
gent never  spoke  more.    As  he  had  desired,  death's 


172  THE    OLD   REGIME 

shaft  had  been  swift  and  sure.  Thus  passed  away, 
in  his  forty-ninth  year,  Philippe  Due  d'Orleans  — 
a  man  of  great  abilities,  amiable  disposition,  and 
much  personal  fascination,  but  whose  shame  or 
misfortune  it  was  to  disbelieve  in  the  existence  of 
virtue,  and  thus  to  become  a  corrupter  of  the  mor- 
als of  the  age,  by  the  evil  example  of  a  depraved 
life  and  the  parade  of  atheistic  principles. 

The  young  king  regretted  the  regent,  and  al- 
ways spoke  of  him  with  affection  ;  and  many  of 
those  who  most  lamented  the  criminal  weakness 
of  his  character  were  nevertheless  his  sincerely 
attached  friends. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

Monsieur  le  Due.  —  Taking  Time  by*the  Forelock. — The  New 
Limits  of  Paris.  —  The  Reverbere  Invented.  —  Dark  Streets 
of  Old  Paris. — Crossing  the  Gutters.  —  What  Became  of 
the  Children. — The  Liveliest  City  in  Europe. — Shopkeepers' 
Signboards.  —  The  Lieutenant  of  Police.  —  The  Terrible 
"Damne."  —  Police  Espionnage. — A  Keeper  of  Secrets. 

[UILDING  in  Paris,  beyond  certain 
limits,  had  been  rigorously  prohibited 
during  the  last  reign.  An  inclination 
to  expand  beyond  them  had  been  resolutely 
checked  by  the  decree  of  1672.  The  old  walls 
were  then  thrown  down,  and  the  space  assigned 
by  the  great  Louis  as  the  extreme  fixed  boundary 
of  the  city  and  its  faubourgs  was  defined  and 
planted.  Thus  far,  and  no  farther,  should  the 
good  people  of  Paris  be  allowed  to  extend  their 
dwellings.  Upwards  they  might  rise  —  as  far  as 
Heaven's  portal,  if  they  could  reach  it,  but  not  a 
foot  nearer  the  sacred  precincts  of  Versailles 
should  they  be  allowed  to  approach. 

During  the  regency  the  prohibition  was  not 
strictly  enforced.  Probably  it  was  looked  upon 
as  altogether  obsolete,  when,  most  unexpectedly, 
the  edict  was  renewed  at  the  instance  of  the  Due 

*73 


174  THE    OLD   REGIME 

de  Bourbon.  M.  le  Due  was  now  first  minister, 
though  possessing  no  especial  capacity  for  the 
post.  He  was  without  experience,  and  known 
only  for  his  rancorous  hatred  towards  the  Due 
du  Maine,  and  the  deep  interest  he  had  taken  in 
the  Systeme  Law.  He  had  supplanted  the  duke, 
and  by  the  Systeme  had  added  to  his  slender 
means  some  two  or  three  millions  of  livres ;  he 
also  raised  the  amount  of  a  small  income  to  a 
very  handsome  revenue  by  exchanging  Law's 
paper  for  fine  estates.  There  was  a  ferocity  in 
his  disposition  that  yielded  only  to  the  influence 
of  his  mistress,  Madame  de  Prie,  who  governed 
him  absolutely. 

Having  a  fancy  to  govern  France,  also,  she 
despatched  her  lover,  as  soon  as  it  was  ascer- 
tained that  the  regent  was  actually  dead,  to  seek 
the  king,  in  order  to  request  for  himself  the  va- 
cant post  of  first  minister.  The  young  monarch, 
who  was  engaged  with  his  preceptor,  was  greatly 
embarrassed  by  the  request,  and  consulted  the 
countenance  of  Fleury  for  his  answer.  But  the 
bishop  neither  by  word  nor  look  expressed  ap- 
proval or  disapproval.  His  face  wore  its  usual 
calm  and  benignant  expression.  His  eyes  re- 
mained half  closed,  as  though  but  partly  awakened 
from  a  comfortable  snooze,  and  desiring  only  to 
renew  it.  The  king  may  have  understood  this  as 
a  nodding  assent,  as  he  at  once,  without  speaking, 
nodded  an  affirmative  to  M.  le  Due's  application. 


TAKING    TIME   BY   THE  FORELOCK        1 75 

Most  conveniently,  the  brevet  was  ready,  merely 
requiring  to  be  filled  up ;  possibly  it  had  been 
intended  for  Fleury  himself.  However,  it  was 
signed  on  the  instant,  and  the  Due  took  the  cus- 
tomary oath,  then  departed  to  congratulate  his 
belle  maitresse  on  the  triumph  of  their  coup-de-main% 
and  on  her  wisdom  in  advising  him  to  take  time 
by  the  forelock. 

It  had  been  thought  probable  that  the  Due  de 
Chartres,  the  regent's  son,  might,  on  his  father's 
death,  be  roused  from  his  devotions  by  ambition 
and  the  desire  of  succeeding  to  his  post.  But 
the  young  duke  (he  was  now  twenty-four)  con- 
tinued, as  Due  d' Orleans,  to  lead  the  same  life 
of  seclusion.  Some  years  before,  seduced  by  the 
regent's  example,  he  had  temporarily  shared  in  his 
and  his  roues'  excesses.  But,  disgusted  by  their 
extreme  licentiousness,  he  withdrew  from  the 
court  and  led  the  life  of  a  penitent,  controlled 
entirely  by  Jesuit  priests.  The  death  of  his 
father  produced  no  change  in  his  conduct  or  views. 
He  could  scarcely,  however,  be  considered  sane, 
being  under  the  influence  of  some  extraordinary 
delusions.  The  wits  gave  him  the  name  of 
"  D' Orleans  de  Ste.  Genevieve." 

In  what  way  neglect  of  the  restrictions  on  build- 
ing beyond  the  old  limits  of  Paris  concerned  M.  le 
Due  or  Madame  de  Prie  does  not  appear.  But  as 
self-interest  was  the  guiding  star  of  both,  it  may 
be  imagined  that  the  value  of  property  belonging 


176  THE    OLD   REGIME 

to  one  or  the  other  was  jeopardized  by  it.  That 
which,  owing  to  laxity  during  the  regency  in 
respect  of  new  buildings,  had  already  been  done 
by  those  who  sought  quietude  and  a  breath  of 
fresh  air --then  only  obtainable  in  Paris  in  the 
gardens  and  grounds  of  convents  and  the  hotels  of 
the  noblesse  —  could  not  be  easily  undone.  New 
limits  were,  therefore,  marked  out  and  planted 
soon  after  Louis  XV.  was  declared  of  age,  and 
Paris  was  allowed  to  spread,  some  hundred  yards 
or  so,  in  the  various  directions  already  built  upon. 

Paris  at  this  time  —  1 724  —  was  noisier  and 
dirtier  than  in  the  preceding  century.  The  streets 
had  no  names  affixed  to  them  until  1729.  Some 
unusually  conspicuous  signboard,  a  neighbouring 
convent,  or  the  hotel  of  a  grandee,  served  to  distin- 
guish those  which  were  less  generally  known  than 
the  streets  specially  inhabited  by  certain  trades  — 
such  as  the  Rues  de  la  Tixeranderie,  de  la  Ferron- 
nerie,  Quai  des  Orfevres,  etc.  Numbering  the 
houses  was  not  attempted  for  many  a  long  year 
after ;  but  every  house  had  a  sign  of  some  sort, 
which  answered  the  purpose  of  a  number. 

In  1745  the  Abbe  Matherot  de  Preguey  in- 
vented the  revcrbhe.  Until  then,  an  occasional 
tallow  candle,  placed  in  a  lantern  and  suspended 
aloft  some  twenty-five  feet  above  the  roadway,  was 
the  only  light  the  municipality  vouchsafed  to  guide 
the  footsteps  of  belated  citizens  over  the  marshes 
and  quagmires  of  the  dusky  streets.     And  even 


DARK  STREETS   OF  OLD   PARTS  \JJ 

these  candles,  however  far  they  might  throw  their 
feeble  beams,  and  shine,  as  Portia  says,  like  "  a 
good  deed  in  a  naughty  world,"  could  not  always 
be  depended  upon.  They  were  often  puffed  out 
when  the  wind  was  strong ;  and  sometimes  a  thief 
(in  the  candle)  guttered  them  out.  The  company 
of  lantern-bearers  was  not  then  thought  of,  much 
less  established  ;  so  that,  unless  the  midnight  wan- 
derer had  his  own  private  lanterns  and  bearers,  as 
many  persons  had,  or  carried  a  lantern  himself, 
what  a  sad  predicament  he  must  have  been  in  ! 

To  heap  the  agony  still  higher,  imagine  the  rain 
coming  heavily  clown.  That,  of  course,  would  put 
out  the  candles.  Some  one,  perhaps,  may  reply, 
"  No  one  in  his  senses  would,  in  that  case,  go  out 
on  foot." 

True  ;  but  rain  often  comes  on  unexpectedly. 
Paris,  too,  was  becoming  exceedingly  old.  Many 
of  its  dilapidated  wooden  houses,  with  plastered 
fronts  —  dating  not  less  than  two  hundred  years 
back  —  appeared  to  be  on  the  point  of  falling. 
With  every  fall  of  rain  there  came  crumbling- 
down  a  portion  of  this  frontage --to  the  great 
danger,  and  frequently  great  damage,  of  passers- 
by.  Deaths  from  street  accidents  were  not  unfre- 
quent.  But  they  were  little  heeded  by  the  police, 
and  rarely  was  any  enquiry  made  concerning 
them. 

The  danger  was  increased  when  darkness  and 
rain  came  on  ;  the  more  so  as  the  only  means  for 


I  7S  THE    OLD  REGIME 

carrying  off  the  rain  from  the  house  was  by  pro- 
jecting spouts  from  the  roof  and  from  every 
storey.  These  numerous  cascades  formed  to- 
gether a  powerful  cataract,  while  the  central 
gutter  would  often  be  swollen  into  a  rapid  rivulet, 
or  even  a  river,  carrying  before  it  the  accumulated 
dirt  of  months.  In  the  daytime  several  planks, 
fastened  together,  would  be  thrown  over  the  stream, 
forming  a  sort  of  rude  and  ready  bridge.  Where 
these  were  not  placed,  there  was  no  help  for  either 
lady  or  gentleman  indisposed  or  unable  to  wade 
across  but  to  be  carried  over  the  stream  on  the 
back  or  in  the  arms  of  some  dirty,  sturdy  fellow, 
always  in  waiting,  and  willing  to  perform  this  ser- 
vice for  two  or  three  sous. 

Boileau  Despreaux,  in  his  "  Embarras  de  Paris," 
had  little  praise  to  bestow  on  the  gay  city  in  1660. 
Dufresny  and  Montesquieu,  sixty  years  later  on, 
in  the  same  satirical  vein,  make  their  Siamese  and 
Persian  speak  no  less  unfavourably  of  it.  Saint- 
Foix,  Duclos,  Mercier,  Barbier,  and  other  writers, 
even  to  the  dawn  of  the  revolutionary  times,  take 
up  the  theme  in  a  similar  strain. 

To  be  freed  from  squalor  and  pestilence,  to 
become,  in  its  outward  aspect,  a  cleanly,  healthy 
city,  as  well  as,  socially,  a  rich,  gay  and  delightful 
one,  monastery  walls  had  yet  to  be  demolished,  and 
the  rule  of  the  Bourbon  kings  of  France  to  end. 

Notwithstanding,  the  population  of  Paris  had 
increased.      But,  as  observed  by  the  Marquis  de 


WHAT  BECAME    OF    THE    CHILDREN       1 79 

Mirabeau  (father  of  the  great  orator,  who  had  so 
many  schemes  for  regenerating  France,  but  not 
one  for  managing  his  household),  what  became  of 
the  children?  —  so  few  of  them  ever  were  seen. 
The  mortality  amongst  children  was,  no  doubt, 
fearful  in  those  pent-up  streets,  where  every  noi- 
some trade  was  carried  on  with  impunity  ;  one  of 
the  most  thriving,  and  as  offensive  as  any,  the  tal- 
low-chandler's, being  everywhere  in  full  work. 
Still,  few  young  children  were  seen,  because  all 
who  could  afford  the  expense  had  their  infants 
reared  in  the  country.  The  necessity  for  doing 
so  then,  if  the  parents  studied  their  health,  origi- 
nated the  custom  that  yet  survives,  though  the 
necessity  for  it  has  passed  away. 

But  the  population  of  Paris  was  often  consider- 
ably increased  by  immigrants.  What  names  —  any- 
thing but  French  —  are  now  borne  by  some  of  the 
old  families  of  France  !  —  Italian,  German,  Polish, 
English,  Irish,  Spanish.  There  was  something  at- 
tractive in  the  old  city,  in  spite  of  its  many  short- 
comings ;  and  those  who  settled  in  it  speedily 
became  Parisians,  both  in  their  habits  and  feelings. 
On  Sundays  and  fete  days  they  left  the  close 
streets  and  took  their  pleasure  in  the  various  gar- 
dens and  places  of  amusement  beyond  the  city 
limits  or  barriers.  The  air  is  light  and  stimulating 
there.  It  has  a  pleasant  effect  on  the  spirits, 
similar  to  that  of  good  champagne,  only  far  more 
abiding. 


I  SO  THE    OLD   REGIME 

The  sight  of  the  offensively  dirty  streets  by 
day,  their  gloom  and  danger  at  night,  might  well 
have  deterred  intending  settlers  from  taking  up 
their  abode  in  them,  and  have  repelled  foreign 
visitors  from  Paris.  But  from  the  time  of  the 
regency  foreign  visitors  flocked  to  it,  and  it  was 
reputed  the  liveliest  city  in  Europe. 

One  must  remember  that  the  nights  were  not 
always  dark ;  that  a  torrent  was  not  always  rush- 
ing down  from  the  tall,  dilapidated  dwellings,  or  a 
gulf  stream  always  rolling  through  the  grand  cen- 
tral gutter.  The  silvery  moonbeams  sometimes 
peered  down  into  the  ins  and  outs  of  the  nine 
hundred  mazy  streets,  investing  them  with  an  air 
of  mystery  and  romance. 

The  numerous  signboards  had  then  a  singular 
effect.  Many,  indeed,  were  not  boards  at  all ;  but 
figures  of  men  and  women  and  animals,  or  of  such 
objects  as  the  trader  dealt  in.  Saint  Anthony  and 
the  pig,  at  the  pork-butchers,  was  a  frequent 
and  appropriate  sign,  rudely  carved  or  brilliantly 
daubed.  But  whatever  the  sign,  it  was  thrust  as 
far  as  possible  from  the  house,  every  shopkeeper 
striving  for  prominence.  In  the  flickering  light 
of  the  moon  these  signs  —  for  instance,  some  tall, 
stately  "Justice,"  with  scales,  denoting  that  good 
weight  and  good  measure  were  dealt  out  there; 
some  dignified  Saint  Anthony  ;  "the  good  woman," 
without  her  head ;  or  a  cavalier  with  drawn  sword 
- — often  proved  objects  of  terror  to  the  timid  and 


THE   LIEUTENANT  OF   POLICE  l8l 

to  those  who  were  strangers  in  the  land.  They 
were  the  continual  cause  of  squabbles,  though 
with  little  or  no  result,  between  the  tradespeople 
and  the  police;  their  intrusion  on  the  narrow 
space  of  the  streets  often  making  it  difficult  for 
carriages  to  pass  each  other. 

One  feels  almost  surprised  to  hear  that  there 
was  a  police,  the  need  of  reform  being  so  glaring, 
and  the  utter  neglect  of  every  means  for  effecting 
one  equally  so.  Yet  the  police  was  a  very  re- 
spectable force,  as  far  as  numbers  went ;  highly 
trained,  too,  and  remarkably  vigilant.  The  head 
of  it,  the  lieutenant  of  police,  was  always  a  man 
of  distinction.  To  fill  the  post  with  ability,  no 
ordinary  qualifications  were  needed ;  and  generally 
the  right  man  seems  to  have  been  found  for  it, 
and  to  have  acquitted  himself  of  his  duties  con 
amove,  the  changes  being  fewer  in  this  office 
than  in  any  other  in  the  government. 

But  of  all  who  filled  the  post  of  lieutenant  of 
police,  the  man  whom  nature  seems  specially  to 
have  destined  for  it  was  Marc  Rene,  Comte  d'Ar- 
genson.  He  was  appointed  to  succeed  La  Reynie, 
in  1699,  by  Louis  XIV.,  and  held  the  office  until 
1 71 8,  when  he  resigned.  The  system  of  secret 
police  organized  by  him  (his  thousands  of  invisible 
agents  being  of  both  sexes,  and  of  every  station  of 
life)  was  considered  so  perfect  by  his  able  succes- 
sors, Herault,  Berryer,  Sartines,  Le  Noir  and  De 
Crome,  by  whom  it  was  continued  until  the  eve  of 


1 82  THE    OLD   REGIME 

the  Revolution,  that  they  could  find  nothing  to 
add  to  or  take  from  it  that  did  not  in  some  way- 
mar  its  perfection,  so  cleverly,  wheel  within 
wheel,  was  it  regulated,  like  a  wonderful  piece  of 
mechanism. 

Saint-Simon  asserts  that  there  was  not  a  resi- 
dent in  Paris  of  whose  habits  and  most  private 
affairs  d'Argenson  could  not  obtain  the  fullest 
information  at  a  few  minutes'  notice.  His  face 
was  so  repulsively  ugly  that  it  might  with  pro- 
priety "have  belonged  to  one  of  the  judges  of  the 
infernal  regions."  It  made  him  a  terror  not  only 
to  evil-doers,  but  by  the  sobriquet  it  obtained  for 
him,  "  Le  Damne,"  served  also  the  nurses  for 
frightening  fractious,  naughty  children  into  being 
quiet  and  good. 

It  was  that  fearful  scourge  of  humanity,  the 
small-pox,  which  had  made  such  havoc  of  d'Argen- 
son's  face.  One  would  not  be  surprised  to  learn 
that  he  was  tyrannical.  For  to  become  so  dis- 
figured as  to  be  an  object  of  disgust  or  terror  to 
one's  fellow  creatures  is  enough  to  turn  sour 
every  drop  of  the  milk  of  human  kindness,  how- 
ever abundantly  it  flow  in  the  breast. 

But  this  model  lieutenant  of  police  was  one 
of  the  kindest,  most  considerate  and  humane  of 
men  ;  extremely  witty  and  amusing,  also,  and  much 
sought  after  in  society.  One  can  imagine,  how- 
ever, that  he  was  more  feared  in  the  salons  than 
loved.      He  had  numerous  anecdotes  generally  to 


rOLICE   ESPJONNAGE  1 83 

relate,  always  of  nameless  persons.  And  it  is 
said  that  he  sometimes  chose  this  way  of  putting 
people  who  were  present  on  their  guard,  and  who 
would  understand  his  allusions,  against  an  injudi- 
cious freedom  of  speech.  There  was  no  function- 
ary of  the  State  who  possessed  so  much  real 
power  as  the  lieutenant  of  police ;  and  it  does 
not  appear  that  it  was  ever  materially  abused  by 
any  one  of  the  six  men  to  whom  it  was  succes- 
sively confided  from  1699  to  1789. 

Yet,  at  the  best,  this  wonderfully  organized 
system  of  police  was  but  an  elaborate  political  and 
social  espionnage,  which  could  be  tolerated  only 
under  a  despotism.  It  was  a  prying  into  family 
concerns,  a  peering  into  private  letters,  even 
tracing  the  mysterious  course  of  amorous  in- 
trigues, rather  than  the  seeking  out  of  crime  and 
the  adopting  the  readiest  means  for  preventing  or 
punishing  it. 

It  is  true  that,  while  diving  into  the  concerns  of 
persons  who  were  accused  of  no  crime,  or  gather- 
ing up  in  cafes  and  private  salons  stray  words 
indiscreetly  uttered  (of  no  import,  probably,  at  the 
time,  but  which  were  docketed  and  stowed  away 
for  use,  if  wanted),  the  secret  agents  sometimes 
stumbled  on  other  matters  of  which  it  might  be 
desirable  their  chief  should  be  informed.  But,  on 
the  whole,  the  working  of  Comte  d'Argenson's 
vast  and  intricate  system  served  less  to  further 
the  ends  of  justice,  to  maintain  good  order  in  the 


184  THE    OLD   REGIME 

city,  and  to  afford  protection  to  the  inhabitants, 
than  to  furnish  a  pleasant  dish  of  scandal  for  the 
amusement  of  his  majesty  every  morning. 

Louis  XIV.  delighted  in  it.  The  regent  cared 
not  for  it  ;  he  gave  too  much  cause  for  scandal 
himself.  But  young  Louis  XV.,  whom  it  was  of 
course  necessary  to  initiate  in  the  mysteries  of  the 
secret  police,  was  beginning  to  show  a  taste  for 
reading  other  people's  letters,  and  learning,  thus 
surreptitiously,  the  private  sayings  and  doings  of 
the  court  and  the  beau  monde. 

Yet  there  were  secrets  that  both  d'Argenson 
and  his  successors  kept  religiously,  as  it  is  termed, 
that  is,  locked  up  in  their  own  heart  of  hearts. 
For  they  were  merciful  men,  their  large  experi- 
ence having  taught  them  the  weakness  of  human 
nature,  and  especially  the  weakness  to  which  poor 
woman  is  prone.  So,  as  long  as  she  did  not 
interfere  in  politics,  any  other  secrets  a  fair  lady 
might  have  were  safe  in  the  keeping  of  the  lieu- 
tenant of  police. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

The  Palais  Royal  Gardens. —  Married,  but  Unattached,  Couples. 

—  Que  Voulez-vous? — C'est  la  Mode. —  Le  Haute  Bour- 
geoisie.— Ennobled  Bourgeoises.  —  Summer  Evening  Strolls. 

—  The  Chestnut  Avenue.  —  Expulsion  of  the  Infanta. — 
Supplanting  the  Bishop.  —  The  Regent's  Daughters. — 
Mdlle.  de  Vermandois.  —  Portrait  of  Eouis  XV. —  The  In- 
fanta.—  The  Rambouillet  Circle.- — Marie  Leczinska. — 
L'Eveque  de  Frejus.  —  The  King's  Preceptor.  —  The  Royal 
Bride.  —  The  Young  Bridegroom. — The  Queen's  Dowry. 

jOW  poor,  how  tawdry,  the  most  bril- 
iant  illumination  of  the  trees  of  the 
1^)  Tuileries  and  Palais  Royal  compared 
with  the  silvery  lustre  of  the  moonlit  gardens,  on 
a  soft  summer  night  !  How  delightful  to  saunter 
in  that  avenue  of  grand  old  chestnuts  !  The  sky 
so  intensely  blue,  the  air  so  clear,  that  every 
glittering  star  seems  to  hang  by  an  invisible 
thread  from  the  vault  of  heaven. 

It  was  on  nights  like  this,  and  in  these  same 
gardens,  that,  eighty  years  ago,  Anne  of  Austria 
(who,  with  the  child  Louis  XIV.  and  Cardinal 
Mazarin,  then  lived  in  the  Palais  Royal)  used  to 
promenade  from  midnight  till  two  in  the  morning, 
chatting  and  laughing  with  the  ladies  and  gentle- 
men of  her  household. 

185 


1 86  THE    OLD    REGIME 

Some  alterations  have  been  made  in  the  inter- 
val, both  in  the  palace  and  gardens.  The  regent, 
who,  notwithstanding  his  lamentable  excesses,  was 
a  man  of  much  taste  and  culture,  has  left  a  very 
fine  collection  of  pictures  and  objcts  d 'art  as  well  as 
a  museum  of  natural  history.  His  pious  succes- 
sor, whose  elevated  notions  of  religion  lead  him 
to  set  a  good  example  to  his  household,  and  to 
seek  the  favour  of  heaven  for  himself  by  crawl- 
ing from  his  rooms  to  his  chapel  on  his  knees,  is 
scarcely  capable  of  appreciating  the  treasures  of 
art  he  has  inherited.  The  regent  also  enlarged 
and  replanted  the  gardens,  and  built  that  fine 
cJiatcau  tV can,  which  supplies  the  fountains  both 
here  and  at  the  Tuileries. 

How  the  falling  drops  and  the  feathery  spray 
sparkle  in  the  moonlight !  One  might  fancy  them 
a  shower  of  diamonds,  outvying  those  that  glitter 
and  flash  in  the  ladies'  dresses,  and  in  the  gentle- 
men's, too,  for  there  is  a  very  grand  company 
here.  Forsaking  the  theatres  and  the  salons,  the 
grandes  dames  order  their  carriages,  and,  escorted 
by  their  amis  intimes,  drive  hither  in  the  calm 
summer  twilight,  to  gossip  and  flirt  under  the 
broad-spreading  trees.  But  when  the  moonbeams 
light  up  the  scene,  the  fashionable  promenade  is 
thronged,  and  often  the  evening  saunter  is  ex- 
tended far  into  the  night. 

No  lady  has  the  bad  taste  to  appear  here  with 
her  husband.      What   would   the  world  say  to  so 


MARRIED  BUT  UNATTACHED    COUPLES    1 87 

bourgeois-like  a  proceeding  ?  The  gentleman 
himself  would  be  highly  amused  at  the  idea  of 
dancing  attendance  on  his  wife.  He  has,  of 
course,  other  engagements;  just  as  she  has  — 
metal  more  attractive  elsewhere. 

Should  one  of  these  fashionable,  married,  but  un- 
attached, couples  meet,  perchance,  in  the  course  of 
the  evening,  it  will  appear  that  they  are  on  excellent 
terms.  Note  the  grande politesse  with  which  they 
exchange  smiles  and  bows  ;  surely  it  leaves  noth- 
ing to  desire.  Even  should  it  happen  that  the 
husband  of  the  lady  is  escorting  the  wife  of  her 
own  ami  iutiiuc,  the  spectacle  only  becomes  more 
interesting.  From  the  grandes  reverences  of  the 
ladies,  and  profoundly  low  bows  of  the  gentlemen, 
they  seem  to  say,  "  I  wish  you  much  joy  of  so 
pleasant  a  companion,"  and,  pleased  with  the 
thought,  pass  smilingly  on,  each  couple  exchang- 
ing significant  glances  when  it  turns  its  back  on 
the  other.  "  Can  such  things  be  and  overcome 
us  ?"  etc.,  somebody  exclaims.  Mais!  Que  voulez- 
vous  ?     C'est  la  mode. 

Fashion,  as  all  the  world  knows,  is  a  tyran- 
nical sovereign,  who  has  dethroned  good  taste 
without  securing  a  firm  grasp  of  its  sceptre.  But 
for  good  or  for  evil,  in  manners  or  dress,  or 
whatever  pertains  to  social  life,  the  decrees  of 
fashion,  eonte  que  coutc,  must  be  obeyed.  In  the 
matter  of  dress,  what  sacrifices  are  not  the  slaves 
of   fashion  willing  to  make  to  their  deity  !      If   a 


1 88  THE    OLD   REGIME 

decree  go  forth  that  the  fair  sex,  fat  and  thin, 
put  themselves  into  panicrs,  or  gigantic  bakers' 
baskets,  whose  modern  equivalent  was  the  recently 
discarded  balloon-like  crinoline,  how  readily  do  old 
and  young,  rich  and  poor,  hasten  to  obey ! 

If,  again,  as  in  the  present  day,  a  kind  of 
amphibious  party-coloured  garment,  or  " demie 
culotte  with  a  mermaid  tail,"  be  the  costume  pre- 
scribed for  general  wear,  immediately  the  requisite 
amount  of  immoral  courage  is  mustered  up,  and 
both  the  obese  and  the  scraggy,  the  tall  and  the 
short,  appear  in  our  streets  thus  —  to  say  the 
least  —  unbecomingly  arrayed. 

At  one  time  it  was  the  fashion  to  be  timid 
and  nervous,  and  to  have  fits  of  the  vapours  ;  to 
cultivate  a  fastidious  and  overstrained  refinement 
of  speech,  amounting  to  affectation.  At  another, 
the  younger  ladies  are  dauntless,  daring  and  afraid 
of  nothing,  and  affect  the  slang  of  the  stable. 
However,  let  it  pass,  c  est  la  mode  ;  a  change  will 
occur  by-and-by,  and,  it  may  be  hoped,  for  the 
better.  But  a  truce  to  these  sage  reflections. 
Ere  we  grow  melancholy,  we  will  return  to  the 
company  in  the  gardens. 

A  decree  of  1720  forbade  the  bourgeoisie  to 
wear  diamonds,  pearls,  or  other  jewels,  or  to 
use  either  gold  or  silver  plate  ;  it  was  hoped  that 
they  would  exchange  these  superfluities  for  shares 
in  the  Royal  Bank.  The  decree  has  been  but 
little  regarded,  you  will  observe. 


LE   HAUTE   BOURGEOISIE  I  89 

There  are  ladies  here  of  the  haute  bourgeoisie 
who,  not  only  in  refinement  of  manners,  but  in 
elegance  and  richness  of  toilette,  might  well  be 
ranked  with  the  most  distinguished  of  the  haute 
noblesse.  Indeed,  several  have  lately  been  pro- 
moted to  the  honour  —  if  honour  it  may  be 
termed  —  of  marrying  into  noble  houses.  For 
the  Systeme  Law,  without  having  actually  ruined 
them,  left  many  old  French  families  in  circum- 
stances so  extremely  embarrassed  that,  as  it  was 
customary  to  say,  "  II  fallait  rengraisser  leurs 
terres" —  in  other  words,  retrieve  their  losses  by 
marrying  the  heir  of  the  encumbered  estates  to 
the  richly  endowed  heiress  of  a  wealthy  bourgeois. 
There  was  nothing  that  derogated  from  the  dig- 
nity of  the  noble  in  such  an  alliance  —  the  high 
descent  of  the  family  shedding  its  lustre  on  the 
bride,  effacing  the  stigma  of  her  plebeian  birth, 
and  conferring  nobility  on  her  children. 

The  ennobled  dames  bourgeoises,  of  course,  are 
entitled  to  avail  themselves  of  the  privileges  of 
the  elevated  class  into  which  they  have  been  so 
graciously  received ;  and  very  readily  they  do 
so.  Instances  have  been  known  of  their  having 
gambled  away,  in  a  very  short  time,  all  the 
wealth  brought  by  marriage  into  the  husband's 
noble  family  —  the  ami  intimc  securing  a  very 
fair  share  of  it.  But  when  boursreoise  marries 
bourgeois  you  will  rarely  fail  to  meet  her  enjoy- 
ing a  quiet    walk  or   a   country   ramble,    with    no 


190  THE    OLD   REGIME 

other  "  intimate  friends "  than  her  husband  and 
children. 

On  calm  summer  evenings,  all  who  are  not  too 
weary  and  toilworn  —  for  it  is  a  hard-working  city 
no  less  than  a  gay  one  —  leave  their  close,  noi- 
some dwellings  and  come  to  these  gardens  —  or 
to  those  of  the  Tuileries,  to  the  Place  Royale, 
the  boulevards  (the  Champs  Elysees  were  not 
then  planted),  and  wherever  any  open  space 
occurs,  to  refresh  themselves  with  a  stroll  in  the 
cool  evening  air.  The  French  look  so  much  at 
home  when  sitting  out-of-doors,  in  their  public 
gardens,  or  outside  their  cafes,  one  can  scarcely 
wonder  that  casual  visitors  from  a  country  whose 
people  are  of  a  less  expansive  nature,  and  in  whom 
the  social  instinct  is  much  less  developed,  were 
long  under  the  delusion  that  the  French  had  no 
idea  of  a  home,  and  of  that  mythical  thing  the 
English  call  comfort. 

The  close  quarters  in  which,  by  royal  edict,  a 
century  and  a  half  ago  it  was  enacted  that  the 
inhabitants  of  Paris  should  dwell,  no  doubt  in- 
duced the  habit  of  congregating  on  every  oppor- 
tunity wherever  a  breath  of  the  fresh  air  of  heaven 
could  be  had.  It  led,  also,  to  the  rapid  increase 
in  the  number  of  cafes  which  took  place  at  that 
time,  and  superseded  the  cabarets,  formerly  the 
resort  of  literary  men.  Now,  with  the  exception 
of  a  few,  who,  like  Piron  and  Crebillon,  prefer 
wine  and  beer  to  coffee  and  cocoa,  they  are  fre- 


THE    CHESTNUT  AVENUE  IQI 

quented  only  by  a  noisy  company  of  a  very  in- 
ferior grade. 

At  the  period  now  in  question  the  garden  of  the 
Palais  Royal  is  an  exceedingly  attractive  one,  well 
laid  out  and  planted,  the  trees  generally  fine,  and 
the  chestnut  avenue  in  full  beauty.  It  is  the 
promenade  especially  favoured  by  the  beau  monde. 
There  are  seats  here  and  there,  and  all  fully  occu- 
pied. A  numerous  company  saunters  up  and 
down,  and  there  is  an  immense  deal  of  talking 
and  laughing.  Conversation  is  carried  on  in  no 
very  low  key,  though  all  are  aware  that  the  watch- 
ful eyes  and  the  listening  ears  of  the  lieutenant 
of  police  and  his  myrmidons  are  always  and  every- 
where open.  "  Remember,  that  wherever  you  are, 
there  am  I !  "  said  Herault,  d'Argenson's  successor, 
to  one  whom  he  warned  in  private  of  the  danger  of 
being  indiscreetly  communicative  in  public. 

But  when  and  where,  since  that  remote  time 
when  Eve,  our  first  mother,  flourished,  was  it 
ever  known  that  restraint  could  be  imposed  on  the 
tongue  of  any  one  of  her  daughters  inclined  to 
prattle  ?  The  theme  now  on  every  lady's  lips  is 
the  expulsion,  as  they  term  it,  of  the  young  In- 
fanta and  the  king's  possibly  approaching  marriage. 
It  is  discussed,  too,  with  wonderful  freedom,  as  are 
its  originators,  M.  le  Due  and  Madame  de  Prie. 
We  learn  from  these  ladies,  so  indignant,  appar- 
ently, and  all  so  eager  at  once  to  express  an  opin- 
ion on  the  subject,  that  the  young  Infanta,  now  in 


192  THE    OLD   REGIME 

her  seventh  year,  has  been  sent  back  to  Spain. 
This  step  has  been  taken  suddenly  and  abruptly. 
But  by  way  of  soothing  the  wounded  feelings  of 
her  parents,  orders  were  given  that  the  discarded 
little  princess  should  receive  on  her  journey  home 
the  honours  due  to  a  queen  of  France. 

The  reason  alleged  for  her  return  is  similar  to 
that  conveyed  to  the  Emperor  Maximilian  in  the 
message  of  Charles  VIII.,  when  he  sent  back  to 
Vienna  the  little  Austrian  princess  to  whom  he 
had  been  betrothed  in  his  childhood,  and  who  also 
had  been  brought  up  in  France.  He  was  twenty- 
two,  he  said,  and  desirous  of  marrying,  but  thought 
a  bride  in  her  twelfth  year  too  young  for  him. 
(His  choice  had  fallen  on  a  princess  of  sixteen, 
Anne,  reigning  Duchess  of  Brittany,  the  duchy  by 
this  marriage  becoming  annexed  to  the  French 
monarchy.)  This,  probably,  is  the  precedent  of 
which  M.  le  Due  and  his  mistress  availed  them- 
selves when,  with  the  view  of  displacing  Bishop 
Fleury,  his  influence  being  paramount  with  the 
young  king  —  now  in  his  fifteenth  year  —  it  oc- 
curred to  them  that,  by  marrying  this  youth  to 
a  princess  of  their  own  selection,  they  would  be 
able  to  supplant  the  bishop  and  rule  the  king 
through  her. 

The  Infanta  had  nearly  reached  the  Spanish 
capital  before  the  king  and  queen  were  aware  of 
her  departure  from  France.  Letters  announcing 
it  were  forwarded  to  the  Abbe  de  Livry-Sanguin, 


EXPULSION  OF   THE   INFANTA  1 93 

French  ambassador  at  Lisbon,  with  orders  to  pass 
over  to  Spain  and  deliver  them  to  Philip  V.  The 
abbe  is  now  returned  to  Paris,  to  make  report  of  the 
kind  of  reception  he  met  with  at  Madrid.  Secrets 
will  ooze  out,  and  the  abbe's  story,  which  M.  le 
Due  would  fain  have  suppressed,  is  the  principal 
theme  of  conversation  this  fine  June  evening  with 
every  sauntering  group  in  the  gardens. 

"The  abbe  wept,"  says  one.  "He  threw  him- 
self at  the  king's  feet  when  he  made  known  the 
object  of  his  mission." 

"Of  course  he  did,"  is  the  reply  ;  "  it  is  but  the 
ordinary  etiquette." 

"  Yes,  but  weeping  is  not.  And  the  king,  when 
he  knew  how  great  an  affront  had  been  put  on  him 
and  the  Infanta,  wept  himself.  He  has  but  lately 
left  the  monastery,  as  you  are  aware,  to  resume 
the  crown  of  Spain,  the  Pope,  on  the  death  of  his 
son  from  small-pox,  having  absolved  him  of  his  vow 
of  abdication.  He  was  so  deeply  moved  that  he 
refused  to  receive  the  letters  from  the  abbe.  The 
queen  was  sent  for.  The  letters  were  delivered  to 
her,  and  she  read  them  with  much  emotion.  The 
c7<W declares- -  I  had  it  from  himself  —  that  he 
was  heartily  ashamed  of  his  mission,  and  surprised 
that  the  bishop  did  not  prevent  it." 

"Chut,  chut!"  exclaim  the  more  discreet  lis- 
teners. 

But  the  well-informed  oracle  continues  :  "  De 
Livry  was  ordered  to  leave  the  king's  presence, 


194  THE    OLD   REGIME 

and  to  quit  the  country  without  delay.  All 
Frenchmen  in  Spain  have  had  orders  to  do  the 
same." 

"And  where  is  Mdlle.  Beaujolais,  the  betrothed 
of  Don  Carlos?" 

"  She  is  coming  back  ;  the  marriage  is  broken 
off.  Her  sister,  the  young  widowed  queen,  is  with 
her.  They  have  proved  themselves  worthy  daugh- 
ters of  the  regent.  Philip  sends  them  both  out  of 
Spain  in  the  same  carriages  and  with  the  same 
escort  that  served  for  the  ignominious  expulsion 
of  the  Infanta  from  France." 

"  Have  you  seen  or  heard  of  the  marquise 
lately  ? "  enquires  one  lady  of  another,  in  an 
undertone. 

"Ma  c/itrc,  she  is  scouring  the  country  in  search 
of  a  queen  of  France." 

"  I  heard  that  she  had  been  to  Fontevraud,  and 
was  very  haughtily  received  there." 

"  Yes,  she  fancied  that  Mademoiselle  de  Ver- 
mandois,  though  five  years  older  than  the  king, 
might  answer  her  purpose  as  queen.  But  the 
marquise  met  with  a  rebuff  that  not  only  upset 
her  plans,  but  disconcerted  her  greatly.  Hie 
princess  expressed  much  surprise  that  her  broth- 
er's mistress  should  presume  to  visit  her.  When 
M.  le  Due  heard  of  it,  he  got  into  one  of  his  ami- 
able tempers.  'Let  her  then,'  he  said,  'remain 
where  she  is,  and  rule  the  nuns  of  Fontevraud.' ' 

"But  Fleury?" 


Xoute  $D. 


PORTRAIT   OF  LOi'IS  XV.  1 95 

"Fleury  declines  to  interfere  in  any  project  of 
marriage  ;  but  it  is  certain  that  no  marriage  will 
take  place  of  which  he  disapproves." 

"And  the  king?  " 

The  reply  is  a  general  laugh.  Somebody  has 
even  the  hardihood  to  whisper, — 


"  Timide,  imbecile,  farouche, 

Jamais  Louis  n'avait  dit  mot ; 
Pour  tonner  il  ouvre  la  bouche. 

Est-ce  un  tyran  ?     Non,  c'est  un  sot." 

The  ladies  are  indignant.  The  young  king  is 
declared  to  be  the  handsomest  youth  in  France. 
He  has  grown  wonderfully  during  the  last  two 
years.  His  health  is  more  robust,  and  he  gives 
promise  of  being  the  handsomest  man  in  his  king- 
dom. "  Uceil  du  rot"  —  a  deep  sapphire  blue  —  is 
beginning  to  be  a  favourite  colour  with  the  ladies, 
outrivalling  bleu  du  del. 

The  portrait  of  Louis  XV.,  by  J.  B.  Vanloo,  who 
painted  Louis  XIV.  in  his  old  age,  is  that  of  a 
noble-looking  youth.  The  artist  would  willingly 
have  painted  a  flattering  picture,  but  found  that 
the  nearest  approach  he  could  make  to  a  faith- 
ful copy  of  his  model  would  be  the  nearest  ap- 
proach to  physical  beauty  and  the  best  proof  of 
his  skill.  There  is  grace  in  the  attitude  of  the 
youthful  king,  and  an  air  of  command.  It  is  a 
well  composed  and  very  pleasing  picture. 


196  THE    OLD   REGIME 

Though  still  diffident  and  silent  among  persons 
with  whom  he  is  little  acquainted,  the  king's  man- 
ners at  this  period  are  much  improved.  He  is 
far  less  brusque ;  but,  owing  to  his  natural  shy- 
ness, appears  most  to  advantage  in  the  small 
social  circle  of  the  Comtesse  de  Toulouse,  where 
his  extreme  reserve  disappears.  It  is  at  Ram- 
bouillet  that  he  has  acquired  a  certain  courtly  ease 
and  chivalric  bearing  which  may  well  entitle  him 
to  the  appellation  "parfait  gentilhomtne"  while 
they  induce  many  sanguine  persons  to  expect 
great  things  from  him  when  a  few  more  years 
shall  have  passed  over  his  head. 

What  a  pity  that  the  bishop,  who  at  any  mo- 
ment could  dismiss  M.  le  Due  from  his  post,  should 
have  allowed  him  and  his  mistress  to  send  away 
the  Infanta.  She  was  a  wonderfully  observant 
little  maiden,  and  her  remarks  were  astonishingly 
shrewd  for  so  young  a  child.  She  quite  under- 
stood that  she  was  to  be  a  queen,  and  seemed  sen- 
sible of  the  dignity  of  her  position.  Her  fiance 
very  seldom  took  notice  of  her.  Excessive  timid- 
ity restrained  him  from  evincing  any  great  cvi- 
pressement,  either  towards  her  or  ladies  generally. 
He  is,  indeed,  as  yet  so  little  gallant  that  he 
usually  avoids  le  beau  sexc.  But  when  he  becomes 
the  object  of  attentions  which  fair  dames  already 
are  anxious  to  pay  him,  he  is  remarkably  polite 
and  deferential. 

Fleury's  own  indolence  and  love  of  ease  have 


THE   KAMBOUILLET  CIRCLE  1 97 

encouraged  the  similar  tendencies  of  his  pupil.  It 
is  to  be  feared  that,  until  actually  compelled  by 
force  of  circumstances  to  use  the  great  power  he 
holds  in  his  hands,  he  will  make  no  attempt  to  put 
it  in  action,  either  for  his  pupil's  or  the  country's 
benefit.  He  is  as  fond  of  the  Rambouillet  circle 
as  is  the  young  king  himself,  whom  he  usually 
accompanies  on  his  weekly  visits  to  the  chateau. 
The  bishop  is  very  socially  inclined,  and  trte  spi- 
rituel,  and  the  tone  of  the  society  he  meets  in  the 
salon  of  the  countess  greatly  pleases  him.  The 
Comte  de  Toulouse,  who  has  seen  some  naval 
service,  is  of  less  studious  habits,  perhaps  some- 
what less  pious,  but  decidedly  of  more  genial  tem- 
perament than  his  brother  Du  Maine. 

The  count  has  an  only  son,  the  Due  de  Pen- 
thievre,  some  years  younger  than  the  king.  The 
domesticated,  bourgeois-like  life  of  the  count  and 
countess,  and  their  attachment  to  each  other,  pro- 
voke the  mirth  and  ridicule  of  the  beau  monde. 
Nevertheless,  they  are  greatly  and  generally  es- 
teemed. 

Fleury  may  have  hoped  that  in  their  society  the 
king  would  fall  into  similar  tastes  and  habits.  To 
a  certain  extent  he  has  done  so  ;  and  the  dissolute 
young  nobles  now  lying  in  wait,  in  the  hope  of 
leading  him  into  libertine  courses,  will  probably 
find  considerable  difficulty  in  goading  him  into 
vice. 

But,  en  attendant,  what  has  become  of  the  mar- 


198  THE    OLD   REGIME 

quise  ?  She  is  a  wonderful  woman  of  business, 
the  daughter  of  a  financier,  and  on  very  intimate 
terms  with  one  of  the  brothers  Paris-Duvernay, 
who  assists  her  in  governing  the  state.  There 
are  rumors  that  she  has  at  last  found  a  queen  who 
has  been  accepted  at  a  "  conscil ' privc ;  that  Fleury 
has  not  objected,  and  that  the  king,  finding  he  can- 
not escape  matrimony,  has  quietly  submitted  to  his 
fate. 

The  rumor  proves  to  be  fact.  M.  le  Due  sum- 
mons the  Grand'  cliambrc,  and  Louis  XV.  an- 
nounces his  marriage  with  Marie  Leczinska,  daugh- 
ter of  Stanislaus  Leczinski,  ex-king  of  Poland. 

What  an  outcry !  what  a  general  disappoint- 
ment !  "  The  daughter  of  a  poor  fugitive  Polish 
noble,  living  in  obscurity  on  a  small  pension  from 
France,  to  be  preferred  to  an  Infanta  of  Spain  !  " 
Had  she  been  of  a  more  suitable  age,  it  would 
have  been  some  consolation.  Surely,  say  the 
ladies,  there  are  young  princesses  in  Europe,  of 
fifteen  or  sixteen,  from  amongst  whom  a  more 
appropriate  choice  might  have  been  made,  than  of 
this  Polish  lady  in  her  twenty-third  year,  to  share 
the  throne  of  a  boy-monarch  not  yet  sixteen ! 
"  Madame  de  Prie  never  did  look  to  conse- 
quences," it  was  remarked.  But  why  should  the 
king  accept  a  bride  of  her  selection  ?  Is  it  really 
true,  then,  as  whispered  about,  "Que  cc  joli  garcon 
11  est  qu'un  sot." 

And   is   Fleury  also  un  sot?     He  had,  it  was 


THE   KING'S  PRECEPTOR  1 99 

supposed,  but  little  ambition.  He  was  seventy- 
two  years  of  age,  and  not  particularly  active, 
though  by  no  means  infirm.  But  so  far  from 
being  //;/  sot,  he  was  a  man  of  talent  and  consider- 
able culture,  unless  he  may  have  been  considered 
one  for  his  persistent  refusal  of  high  ecclesiastical 
dignities,  because  of  his  unwillingness  to  take 
upon  himself  any  fatiguing  or  responsible  func- 
tions. His  bishopric  of  Frejus  he  resigned  with 
as  little  delay  as  possible,  much  to  the  regret  of 
his  clergy.  For  by  his  economy  and  conciliatory 
spirit,  which  —  as  remarked  by  Voltaire  —  were 
the  predominant  parts  of  his  character,  he  had 
done  much  good  in  his  diocese. 

He  gave,  as  a  reason  for  resigning,  that  the 
state  of  his  health  (which  was  generally  good) 
did  not  permit  him  to  discharge  satisfactorily  the 
duties  of  his  office.  The  real  motive  appears  to 
have  been  the  distance  of  Frejus  (near  Cannes) 
from  the  capital,  and  its  unattractiveness,  at  that 
period,  as  a  residence.  "  As  soon  as  he  saw  his 
wife,"  he  said,  "he  was  disgusted  with  his  mar- 
riage." In  a  letter  to  Cardinal  Ouirini,  he  signed 
himself,  "  Fleury,  Eveque  de  Frejus,  par  l'indigna- 
tion  divine."  His  friend,  Villeroi,  suggested  to 
Louis  XIV.  his  appointment  as  preceptor  to  his 
youthful  heir.  Fleury,  however,  would  have  wil- 
lingly declined  it,  but  was  not  permitted. 

The  bishop  seems  to  have  been  in  some  degree 
imbued  with  the  pleasure-loving  spirit  of  the  age ; 


200  THE    OLD   REGIME 

though  far  too  courtly  to  accept  the  philosophical 
ideas  that  were  slowly  gaining  ground  in  society. 
His  delight  was  in  witty  conversation,  and  piquant 
badinage  with  the  ladies  in  the  salons;  but,  like 
Massillon,  he  declined  discussion  on  theology. 
He  was  very  fond  of  children ;  and  at  Ram- 
bouillet  the  little  Infanta,  who  was  much  attached 
to  him,  used  to  sit  on  his  knees  while  he  told  her 
fairy  tales.  Such  was  the  man  who  for  ten  years 
had  been  preceptor  to  the  king,  who,  on  his  part, 
confided  in  and  loved  him  both  as  a  parent  and  a 
friend. 

Fleury  had,  doubtless,  his  reasons  for  consent- 
ing to,  or,  rather,  not  opposing,  the  marriage 
of  his  royal  pupil ;  therefore,  the  Polish  princess 
became  Queen  of  France,  notwithstanding  the 
generally  expressed  disapproval  of  the  nation. 
Perhaps  no  one  was  surprised  at  this  unlooked- 
for  elevation  so  much  as  poor  Stanislaus,  her 
father.  More  than  one  version  has  been  given 
of  the  manner  in  which  he  received  the  news  of 
this  freak  of  fortune  in  his  favour  —  for  Marie 
Leczinska  was  scarcely  asked  in  marriage ;  Stan- 
islaus was  informed  merely  that  she  was  accepted. 
He  is  said  to  have  kept  this  fine  piece  of  news  a 
secret  for  some  days ;  to  have  revealed  it  cau- 
tiously, fearing  its  effect  on  his  wife  and  daughter. 
Another,  and  more  probable  story,  is  that  he  no 
sooner  knew  it  than  he  rushed  into  the  room,  and, 
with  true  Polish  impetuousness,  exclaimed,  "  On 


THE  ROYAL   BRIDE  201 

your  knees !  on  your  knees,  and  thank  God ! " 
himself  setting  the  example.  "  Recalled  to  Po- 
land ? "  they  cried,  excitedly.  "  No,  no  !  far  better, 
far  better  !     Marie  is  to  be  Queen  of  France !  " 

She  was  married  by  proxy  at  Strasburg  Cathe- 
dral on  the  15th  of  August,  1725.  The  king's 
miniature,  set  in  diamonds,  had  been  presented  to 
her,  his  beauty  and  manly  appearance  highly 
extolled,  and  a  glowing  account  set  before  her 
of  the  pleasures  awaiting  her  in  France.  But  the 
intense  misery  she  witnessed  on  her  journey  — 
petitions  and  appeals  meeting  her  at  every  town 
and  village,  an  inconceivable  amount  of  wretch- 
edness being  then  general  in  the  provinces  —  so 
deeply  affected  her  that  she  prayed,  on  her  arrival, 
that,  instead  of  expending  money  on  fetes,  relief 
might  be  sent  to  the  suffering  people. 

The  public  purse  was  very  empty  just  then,  and 
little  money  to  be  had  for  either  fetes  or  charity. 
The  royal  marriage  took  place  on  the  4th  of  Sep- 
tember, and  there  was  but  scant  rejoicing  of  any 
sort.  The  young  bridegroom  was  immensely 
bored,  and  annoyed  at  the  part  assigned  to  him 
—  so  greatly  did  he  dislike  appearing  prominently 
in  public.  The  bride  was  far  from  being  beauti- 
ful, but  she  was  fresh  and  fair,  and  looked  younger 
than  she  was.  Her  figure  was  graceful,  and  she 
was  gentle  and  amiable.  The  bishop  was  kind, 
and  appeared  well  satisfied  (he  was  already  aware 
that   he   had  no  feminine  rival  to  fear),  and   Louis 


202  THE    OLD   REGIME 

was   therefore    resigned.     The    ladies,   of    course, 
found  much  to  criticize  in  their  new  queen,  and 
laughed    exceedingly    at    her    bourgeois    French 
which  she  had  acquired  from  an  illiterate  waiting- 
maid. 

Madame  de  Prie  became  Dame  du  Palais  de 
la  Rcine,  and,  having  succeeded  in  placing  Marie 
Leczinska  on  the  throne,  was  now  looking  for- 
ward to  the  speedy  expulsion  of  the  bishop  and  a 
long  usurpation  of  power  for  herself  and  M.  le 
Due. 

This  marriage,  at  the  time  so  generally  dis- 
approved, eventually  added  a  fine  province  to  the 
kingdom  -  -  the  Duchy  of  Lorraine.  Since  the 
marriage  of  Anne  of  Brittany  with  Charles  VIII., 
no  previous  queen  had  brought  a  dowry  of  equal 
value.  A  stipulated  sum  of  money,  only  partly 
paid,  or  not  paid  at  all,  had  been  the  usual  mar- 
riage portion  of  the  foreign  princesses  who  became 
queens  of  France. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

Sledging  at  Versailles.  —  La  Dame  du  Palais.  —  The  Queen's 
Secluded  Life.  —  Piety  of  the  Queen  and  King.  —  The 
Sound  of  the  Hunting  Horn.  —  The  Good  Old  Days.  —  The 
Rain  and  the  Sunshine.  —  Intrigues  of  Mdme.  de  Prie. — 
The  Bishop  Retires  to  Issy.  —  A  Domestic  Tempest.  —  A 
Scene  at  the  Theatre.  —  Two  Lettres-de-Cachet.  ■ —  Paris- 
Duvemay.  —  Fortune's  Wheel  Moves  Round.  —  An  Old 
Normandy  Chateau.  —  Death  of  Madame  de  Prie. 

IjHE  winter  of  1 725-1 726  was  of  ex- 
treme severity  in  France,  and  distress 
and  suffering  were  frightful  in  the 
provinces.  Many  of  the  petite  noblesse  worked 
as  hired  labourers  on  lands  they  had  once  owned, 
and  starvation  and  disease  prevailed  amongst  the 
peasantry.  The  financial  difficulties  of  the  state 
were  increasing,  and  the  pressure  of  taxation  was 
so  great  that  murmuring  was  rife  throughout  the 
country,  and  it  was  found  difficult  to  collect  the 
imposts. 

But  neither  the  rigour  of  the  season  nor  the 
penury  of  the  exchequer  was  an  evil  that  seemed 
to  be  felt  at  Versailles.  There,  the  clear,  crisp  air 
rang  with  merry  laughter,  with  the  jingling  music 
of  silver  bells,  with  the  sound  of  the  swift  patter- 

203 


204  THE    OLD   REGIME 

ing  feet  of  small,  fleet  horses,  that  appeared  almost 
to  fly  with  joyous  parties  of  sledgers  over  the 
ice-bound  earth,  the  frozen  lakes  and  ornamental 
waters  of  the  park.  Polish  fashions  had  become 
the  rage ;  and  the  weather  was  well  suited  for 
the  warmly-lined  polonaise  of  velvet  and  fur,  the 
furred  casquette,  and  furred  Polish  boots,  which 
the  queen  had  brought  into  vogue  with  the 
sledges. 

Every  courtier  had  his  richly  ornamented  sledge. 
The  king  and  queen,  with  the  ladies  and  gentle- 
men of  the  court,  amused  themselves  greatly  while 
the  novelty  of  this  exciting  sport  lasted.  The 
queen  first  appeared  in  a  sledge  formed  like  a 
sea-shell.  It  was  supported  by  Tritons,  and  rose- 
crowned  cupids  were  grouped  around  it.  Two 
fiery  little  steeds  were  attached  by  embroidered 
crimson  leather  harness,  from  which  hung  innu- 
merable tinkling  silver  bells.  The  shell  was  lined 
with  crimson  velvet,  and  had  cushions  of  the  same. 
The  king  and  queen,  enveloped  in  rich  sables, 
passed,  thus  equipped,  through  the  park  of  Ver- 
sailles and  over  its  frozen  waters.  The  courtiers 
were  not  slow  to  follow  their  example  ;  but  sledg- 
ing did  not  survive  its  first  season. 

Among  this  gay  throng  none  were  more  brilliant 
than  Madame  de  Prie,  none  more  triumphant  than 
M.  le  Due  ;  for  on  none  did  the  queen  smile  more 
graciously.  She  regarded  them  as  her  own  and 
her  father's  benefactors,  as  entitled  to  her  warm 


LA    DAME   DU  PALAIS  205 

est  gratitude,  and  to  such  favour  as  her  influence 
with  the  king  might  be  able  to  obtain  for 
them.  The  dame  du  palais,  meanwhile,  sought 
to  strengthen  this  feeling  by  her  constant  en- 
deavour to  please  the  royal  lady  she  had  raised 
to  the  throne,  and  thus  insinuated  herself  into 
her  confidence  and  secured  her  affection. 

The  king  had  now  entered  his  seventeenth 
year,  and  had  been  six  months  married.  Though 
evincing  none  of  the  enthusiasm  of  boyish  love, 
he  appeared,  in  his  apathetic  way,  to  be  pleased 
with  his  pleasant-tempered,  gentle  and  unassum- 
ing bride. 

Intellectually,  Marie  Leczinska  was  not  highly 
gifted,  and  her  education  had  been  but  a  scanty 
one ;  she  spoke  French  fluently  enough,  but  as 
an  uneducated  person.  It  was  the  despair  of  the 
academician,  Moncrif,  a  great  purist,  who  was  her 
reader  and  instructor  in  the  French  language. 
She  did  her  best  to  overcome  the  faults  which, 
uncorrected,  had  grown  into  habits,  but  never 
quite  succeeded.  The  king,  who  spoke,  when  he 
made  up  his  mind  to  speak,  with  perfect  correct- 
ness, and  with  a  certain  elegance  of  diction  de- 
rived from  his  preceptor,  was  often  amused  by 
the  expressions  used  by  the  queen,  and  the  singu- 
lar and  unusual  sense  in  which  'she  employed 
many  words.  He,  however,  found  her  society 
sufficiently  interesting  to  induce  him  to  saunter 
away  in  her  apartments  a  few  of  the  many  idle 


206  THE    OLD   REGIME 

hours  that  hung  so  heavily  on  his  hands.  His 
visits  to  Rambouillet  continued  as  usual,  but  it 
would  seem  that  the  queen  did  not  accompany 
him  thither.  She  lived  in  nearly  as  much  seclu- 
sion as  when  dwelling  in  her  obscure  home  at 
Weissenburg.  No  grand  public  fetes,  no  court 
revels,  had  celebrated  the  marriage  of  Louis  XV. 
Not  many  persons  could  then  remember  the  pub- 
lic entry  into  Paris  of  Louis  XIV.  and  his  Spanish 
bride,  and  the  festivities  that  followed.  But  tra- 
dition told  of  their  splendour,  and  exaggerated  it ; 
and  the  pleasure-loving  Parisians,  comparing  the 
imaginary  past  with  the  reality  of  the  present, 
believed  that  the  old  state  of  things  must  have 
been  better  than  the  new. 

The  queen  had  been  reared  in  the  most  super- 
stitious observance  of  the  outward  ceremonies  of 
religion.  Her  great  kindness  of  heart  prompted 
her  to  indulgence  and  forbearance  towards  the 
fair  but  frail  ladies  of  the  French  court.  But 
had  she  possessed  judgment  and  sufficient  strength 
of  mind  to  suppress  the  devotee,  and,  while  con- 
forming in  some  measure  to  circumstances,  to 
play  more  conspicuously,  and  with  some  spirit, 
the  part  of  queen,  her  influence  would  probably 
have  effected  a  reform  in  the  manners  of  the 
court  ;  when,  as  a  penitent  constantly  on  her 
prie-dicu,  or  shut  up  in  her  oratory,  she  inspired 
only  sneering  pity,  or  the  profane  laugh. 

The  king  never  omitted  morning  prayer,  mass, 


THE  SOUND    OF   THE   HUNTING   HORN    207 

and  confession.  There  his  religion  ended.  These 
duties  performed,  he  went  to  his  gardening,  or  his 
turning.  The  latter  was  a  new  accomplishment, 
and  he  had  succeeded  in  it  remarkably  well  — 
making  very  presentable  snuff-boxes  from  pieces 
of  the  roots  of  trees.  But  nowhere  was  he  so 
free  from  ennui  as  at  Rambouillet.  A  lively  and 
youthful  company  was  usually  assembled  there. 
Politics  and  affairs  of  state  were  subjects  pro- 
hibited in  the  salon  of  the  countess.  A  word  or 
look  from  the  count  at  once  put  an  end  to  them, 
if,  perchance,  either  designedly  or  otherwise,  such 
topics  seemed  likely  to  be  brought,  or  to  glide,  on 
the  tapis. 

But  the  chase  in  the  forests  of  Rambouillet  was 
Louis's  favourite  diversion.  The  sound  of  the 
hunting  horn,  the  baying  of  the  dogs,  the  impa- 
tience of  his  steed  for  the  sport,  all  delighted  him. 
They  dispelled  the  languor  and  inertness  that 
usually  oppressed  him,  and  which  arose  from  a 
singularly  indolent  state  of  mind,  rendering  him 
wholly  incapable  of  sustaining  an  interest  in  any 
pursuit  or  amusement  unless  excitement  were 
kept  up  by  continual  movement  and  change. 
When  weather  permitted,  the  ladies  joined  these 
parties  de  cliassc,  arrayed  in  blue  and  green  riding- 
dresses,  with  lace  cravats  and  ruffles,  and  hats  a 
la  mousquetaire,  or  a  la  Garde  francaise. 

At  a  certain  shady  spot  in  the  forest,  a  sub- 
stantial luncheon   was  always    laid    out,   servants 


208  THE    OLD   REGIME 

having  been  sent  on  before,  with  hampers  of 
wine  and  provisions,  to  prepare  this  feast  of  all 
the  good  things  in  season.  They  were  pleasant 
repasts.  The  exhilaration  of  the  chase,  the  fresh, 
bracing  air,  the  champagne,  the  badinage,  jcux 
tf  esprit  and  gay  propos,  moved  even  the  moody 
young  king  to  brightness  and  laughter.  Usually 
there  was  a  dance  on  his  return  to  the  chateau, 
then  the  a  V  Anglais e,  followed,  by-and-by,  by 
supper ;  for  this  was  especially  an  eating  and 
drinking  age,  as  well  as  a  singing  and  dancing 
one.  Sometimes,  after  the  dancing,  just  a  little 
gambling  took  place  ;  for  Louis  liked  and  excelled 
in  both.  And  if  it  was  a  moonlight  night,  there 
was  often  a  riding  party  home  —  well  armed,  of 
course,  for  there  was  a  chance  of  encountering 
the  famous  highwayman,  Cartouche,  and  his  brig- 
and band,  just  as  in  the  good  old  days  in  merry 
England. 

But  while  young  Louis  XV.  and  his  court  were 
amusing  themselves,  distress  in  the  country  was 
increasing.  The  populace  of  Paris  and  its  fau- 
bourgs were  crying  for  bread,  and  every  necessary 
of  life  had  become  scarcer  and  dearer.  Prayers 
were  daily  offered  up  in  the  churches,  and  priestly 
processions  paraded  the  streets.  The  silver  shrine 
of  Ste.  Genevieve  was,  by  order  of  the  Parliament, 
carried  through  the  city  by  barefooted  priests 
intoning  prayers,  and  followed  by  a  bareheaded 
.multitude,   who   invoked  the   intercession    of    the 


INTRIGUES   OF  MDME.   DE  PR  IE  2CX) 

saints.      Alas !     neither    prayers    nor    processions 
availed.      No  manna  descended  from  heaven. 

"  Qiiils  so nt  betes  avec  leur  chdsse  /"  exclaimed 
Madame  de  Prie.  "They  know  not  that  it  is  I 
who  make  both  the  rain  and  the  sunshine." 
Forthwith  the  order  is  issued  to  bring  into  the 
market  the  grain  (obtained  chiefly  by  exaction) 
which  had  been  hoarded  up  from  the  moment  that 
the  probability  of  a  scarcity  was  foreseen.  It  is 
offered  now  to  the  hungry  people,  at  prices  that 
put  money  into  the  purses  of  the  minister  and  his 
mistress.  This  is  the  sunshine  she  sheds  on  the 
starving  populace.  Murmurs  loud  and  deep  reach 
the  ears  of  Fleury,  and  petitions  are  addressed  to 
the  king  through  his  hands.  Madame  de  Prie,  the 
bishop  informs  M.  le  Due,  must  be  dismissed  from 
the  court,  her  influence  and  interference  in  public 
affairs  being  prejudicial  to  the  interests  of  the  State. 

The  lady  is  highly  incensed.  "  It  is  not  she 
who  will  leave  the  court,  but  the  bishop  who  shall 
receive  his  conge."  The  partizans  of  each  do  their 
best  to  eject  the  other.  Madame  de  Prie  and  M. 
le  Due  feel  sure  of  the  victory.  Have  they  not 
the  wealthy  financier,  Paris-Duvernay,  to  support 
them  ?  also  the  queen  among  their  partizans  ? 
But  Fleury  is  not  to  be  drawn  into  a  struggle  for 
power  with  the  mistress  of  M.  le  Due,  whom  he 
has  suffered  for  a  time  to  be  his  locum  tenens. 
He  allows  them  to  work  out  their  own  downfall, 
and  it  is  not  long  delayed. 


2IO  THE    OLD   REGIME 

Yielding  to  the  wishes  of  his  preceptor  that  he 
would  give  some  attention  to  the  affairs  of  govern- 
ment, the  king  was  accustomed  to  spend  a  short 
time  in  his  apartment  daily,  engaged  there  with 
his  first  minister  ;  the  bishop  being  always  present. 
When  the  public  business  was  disposed  of,  M.  le 
Due  withdrew,  much  to  his  annoyance ;  for  the 
king  remained  to  write,  or  to  sign,  under  the 
bishop's  direction,  any  documents  relating  to 
ecclesiastical  affairs  —  the  bishop  having  the  inde- 
pendent charge  of  Church  matters.  It  occurred 
to  the  duke  and  his  mistress  that,  as  the  king  was 
more  bored  by  these  morning  sittings  than  inter- 
ested in  them,  he  might  be  enticed  to  hold  his 
conference  with  his  minister  in  the  apartment  of 
the  queen.  Her  majesty  and  her  dame  du  palais 
could  then  amuse  him,  while  the  minister,  occupy- 
ing himself  with  the  state's  concerns,  would  make 
no  demand  on  his  sovereign's  attention  —  the 
bishop,  of  course,  being  presumed  to  be  absent. 
The  queen  consented,  her  friends  assuring  her 
that  it  was  a  most  necessary  and  advisable  course. 

The  king  was  indifferent  to  this  change  in  the 
council  chamber.  But  the  bishop,  though  neither 
informed  of  it  nor  invited  to  attend,  yet  did  not 
fail  to  appear,  as  usual,  to  assist  his  pupil  with  his 
advice.  It  was  determined  to  exclude  him.  The 
duke's  opinion  was  not  asked  on  ecclesiastical 
affairs  ;  the  bishop's  should  not  be  accepted  on 
secular   ones.     Accordingly,   when    next    he    pre- 


THE   BIS HOP  RETIRES    TO   ISSY  211 

sentcd  himself,  entrance  to  the  queen's  apartments 
was  refused  him.  He  withdrew,  but  said  naught. 
His  royal  pupil  noticed  his  absence,  and,'  like  the 
bishop,  uttered  no  remark.  He  was  always  spar- 
ing of  his  words,  and  very  rarely,  indeed,  carried 
away  by  feeling  to  forget  the  lessons  of  dissimula- 
tion which,  as  a  necessary  part  of  the  education  of 
kings,  he  had  thoroughly  mastered. 

The  seance  ended,  the  king  seeks  his  preceptor. 
He  is  not  to  be  found.  He  has  left  Versailles. 
"  Finding  that  his  majesty  has  no  further  occasion 
for  his  services  or  his  advice,  he  has  retired  to 
Issy  "  —  to  that  little  maison  de  campagne  that  may 
be  called  the  bishop's  boudoir;  for  thither  he  always 
betakes  himself  when,  not  choosing  to  complain  in 
words,  it  pleases  him  to  assume  the  boudeur. 

Now  is  Louis  XV.  roused,  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life,  to  play  the  absolute  monarch  and  the 
indignant  husband.  His  deepest  feelings  are  his 
great  reverence  and  almost  filial  affection  for 
Bishop  Fleury.  He  learns,  on  further  inquiry,  that 
his  preceptor  has  been  treated  with  disrespect,  the 
attendants  in  the  anteroom  of  the  queen's  apart- 
ments having  denied  him  entrance.  His  anger  is 
extreme.  M.  le  Due,  whom  he  already  disliked, 
strives  vainly  by  excuses  and  apologies  to  appease 
him.  With  his  own  hand  he  has  at  once  to  sit 
down  and  write  the  king's  commands  to  the  bishop 
to  return  to  Versailles,  adding  pressing  entreaties 
from  himself  (for  he  foresees  a  storm  gathering 


212  THE    OLD   REGIME 

over  his  head)  that  he  will  make  no  delay.  The 
queen  is  reproached  with  a  vivacity  that  none  hith- 
erto had  thought  the  king  capable  of,  while  she 
replies  only  by  tears  to  her  incensed  young  hus- 
band, whose  displeasure  is  by  no  means  subdued 
by  her  weeping. 

This  domestic  tempest,  originating  in  a  palace 
intrigue,  was  discussed  with  much  interest  in  courtly 
salons.  It  raised  the  vain  hopes  of  would-be  can- 
didates for  the  post  of  maitresse-eji-titre.  It  was 
the  subject  of  conversation  with  all  who  dwelt  at 
Versailles.  "I  remarked,"  says  Voltaire,  "that 
this  domestic  difference  made  a  deeper  impression 
on  people's  minds  than  the  news  of  the  war  which 
was  afterwards  so  calamitous  to  France  and  to 
Europe.  There  was  much  agitation  and  question- 
ing, vague  and  mistrustful  replies.  Some  desired 
a  revolution,  others  feared  it,  but  all  were  alarmed." 

Baron  was  to  play  Britannicus  that  same  even- 
ing at  the  Palace  Theatre.  Voltaire  was  there 
when  the  king  and  queen  arrived  —  an  hour  later, 
he  says,  than  usual,  the  queen's  eyes  showing 
evident  traces  of  recent  weeping.  The  popular 
repugnance  to  the  king's  marriage  was  not  yet 
overcome,  and  when,  in  the  course  of  the  play,  the 
words,  — 

"  Que  tardez-vous,  seigneur,  a  la  re'pudier?" 

were  pronounced  by  Narcissus,  almost  all  who  were 
present,  we  are  told,  turned  their  eyes  on  the  queen, 


TWO   LETTRES-DE- CACHET  213 

to  observe  the  effect  on  her  —  a  curiosity  more 
indiscreet  than  malicious. 

On  the  following  day  Fleury  returned  to  Ver- 
sailles. He  took  no  advantage  of  this  opportunity 
of  revenging  himself  on  his  opponent,  and  uttered 
no  complaint  whatever.  He  was,  in  fact,  the  head 
of  the  state,  and  with  that  he  was  content.  Very 
soon  after,  however,  the  king,  when  setting  out  for 
Rambouillet,  where  he  had  bought  a  small  chateau 
or  hunting  seat,  invited  M.  le  Due  to  pass  the 
night  there,  and  to  hunt  with  him  in  the  morning. 
He  desired  him  to  follow  without  delay,  that  he 
might  not  be  kept  waiting  for  supper.  But  no 
sooner  had  the  king  left  Versailles  than  the  Due 
de  Charost,  ex-governor,  and  now  Capitaine  des 
Gardes,  entered  the  apartment  of  M.  le  Due,  and, 
delivering  a  letter  from  the  king,  arrested  him. 
Having  received  his  sword,  an  exempt  des  gardes 
was  summoned  to  convey  him  to  his  place  of  exile, 
which,  in  this  case,  was  a  very  pleasant  one  —  his 
father's  residence,  the  Chateau  de  Chantilly  — 
there  to  remain  during  his  majesty's  pleasure. 

An  order  to  retire  to  her  estate  of  Courbe- 
Epine,  in  Normandy,  was  at  the  same  time  deliv- 
ered to  Madame  de  Prie.  Regarding  this  merely 
as  a  temporary  eclipse,  she  took  her  departure 
from  Versailles  in  very  good  spirits.  To  bear  her 
company  during  the  supposed  temporary  retire- 
ment, Madame  du  Deffant  accompanied  her. 
Having  quarrelled  with  both  her  husband  and  her 


214  THE    OLD   REGIME 

ami  intime,  she  chose  to  share  her  friend's  exile 
until  she  could  make  up  her  mind  to  which  of 
them  she  would  be  reconciled. 

The  wealthy  Paris-Duvernay,  who  had  assisted 
the  state  in  the  arrangements  consequent  on  the 
failure  of  the  Systeme  Law,  was  lodged  in  the 
Bastille  for  a  time.  The  king  also  summoned  a 
"Conseil  extraordinaire,"  to  inform  his  ministers 
that  he,  and  not  the  financiers,  would  henceforth 
be  the  head  of  the  state,  and  that  business 
would  be  transacted  in  the  apartments  of  M.  de 
Fleury.  That  he,  in  fact,  now  sixteen-and-a-half 
years  old,  was  about  to  reign,  and  his  preceptor, 
at  seventy-three,  to  govern. 

The  Duchesse  d'Alincourt  succeeded  to  the 
vacant  post  of  Dame  du  Palais  de  la  Reine.  The 
beautiful,  and  lately  married,  Duchesse  de  Bouf- 
flers,  granddaughter  of  Marechal  de  Villeroi,  and 
afterwards  Duchesse  de  Luxembourg,  was  another 
of  her  ladies.  The  queen  was  informed  of  these 
changes  in  a  letter  from  the  king,  also  that  the 
orders  of  M.  de  Fleury  were  to  be  obeyed  by  her 
as  implicitly  as  his  own.  She  submitted,  of 
course,  and  with  good  grace,  abstaining  entirely 
for  the  future  from  any  attempt  to  interfere  in 
affairs  of  state.  Yet  she  appears  to  have  been 
really  displeased  with  a  change  which  the  nation 
generally  greatly  approved.  Fleury  would  not 
accept  the  title  of  first  minister.  All  power  was, 
however,  in  his  hands. 


FORTUNE'S    WHEEL    MOVES   ROUND        21$ 

After  the  disgraceful  administration  of  such 
men  as  the  infamous  Dubois,  the  incompetent 
M.  le  Due,  ruled  by  Madame  de  Prie  and  Du- 
vernay,  the  French  people  hailed  with  delight  the 
accession  to  power  of  one  in  whose  wisdom  and 
justice  they  had  confidence,  and  under  whose 
auspices  they  looked  for  the  return  of  order  in 
the  government,  and  some  respect  for  morality 
and  decency  of  manners. 

A  cardinal's  hat,  which,  owing  to  the  intrigues 
of  M.  le  Due,  had  been  for  some  time  withheld, 
soon  after  made  its  appearance,  and  Fleury  re- 
ceived it  from  the  hands  of  the  king.  When  the 
cardinal,  wearing  the  insignia  of  his  newly  con- 
ferred dignity,  presented  himself  for  the  ceremony 
of  thanking  the  king,  the  young  monarch  affection- 
ately embraced  him  in  the  presence  of  the  court, 
and,  as  Duclos  remarks,  openly  expressed  as  much 
pleasure  as  the  new  cardinal  probably  inwardly 
felt. 

And  thus  the  tables  were  turned,  and  fortune's 
wheel  moved  round.  A  few  persons  went  into 
exile,  and  many  were  recalled  from  it.  The  old 
Marechal  de  Villeroi  again  visited  Paris,  to  die  in 
peace  there  in  his  eighty-eighth  year.  The  legiti- 
mated princes  were  reinstated  in  all  the  privileges 
of  which  they  had  been  deprived,  except  the  right 
of  succeeding  to  the  throne,  and  the  little  Duchesse 
du  Maine  was  made  happy  again  by  this  triumph. 

When  Madame  de  Prie  heard  of  these  changes, 


2l6  THE    OLD   REGIME 

and —  which  affected  her  most  —  that  she  was 
dame  du  palais  no  longer,  she  comprehended  that 
henceforth  the  favour  of  the  queen  could  avail  her 
nothing,  and  that  she  would  be  received  at  Ver- 
sailles no  more.  Intense  grief,  the  madness  of 
despair,  took  possession  of  her  mind.  Pilon,  M. 
le  Due's  physician,  was  sent  for.  He  supposed 
her  to  be  suffering  from  the  complaint  then  in 
fashion  with  fine  ladies  —  a  nervous  attack,  va- 
pours being  superseded  by  nerves.  He  treated 
her  as  a  malade  imaginaire ;  of  disappointed 
ambition  he  knew  naught.  Nor  could  he  have 
ministered  to  a  mind  diseased,  had  he  even  had 
the  discernment  to  suspect  the  existence  of  that 
malady. 

And  so  the  once  brillaint  Madame  de  Prie  — 
"une  creature  celeste,"  according  to  d'Argenson; 
"  wily  as  a  serpent,  beautiful,  but  not  so  harm- 
less, as  the  dove,"  say  others  —  pined  away  in  her 
old  Normandy  chateau.  And  a  living  tomb,  in- 
deed, it  must  have  been  in  those  days  —  especially 
to  one  fond  of  splendour  and  power;  one  from 
whom  France  had  accepted  a  queen  of  her  choos- 
ing, and  who  for  nearly  three  years  had  ruled  the 
court  of  Versailles.  After  fifteen  months  of  exile, 
she  died,  at  the  age  of  twenty-nine.  D'Argenson 
says,  she  announced,  as  a  sort  of  prophecy,  that 
her  death  would  take  place  on  a  certain  day,  and 
very  nearly  at  a  certain  hour  named  by  her.  Two 
days  before  the  time  stated  she  secretly  sent  away 


DEATH  OF  MADAME   DE   PRlE  21 J 

her  diamonds  —  which  were  of  immense  value  — 
to  some  person  at  Rouen.  When  her  confidential 
messenger  returned,  Madame  de  Prie  was  no  more. 
She  had  taken  poison  of  a  violent  kind,  and  her 
sufferings  before  death  were  excessive. 

It  is  mentioned,  as  a  reproach  to  her,  that  she 
left  by  will  to  M.  le  Due  nothing  but  a  mediocre 
diamond,  of  about  the  value  of  five  thousand  cats. 

The  valuable  casket  of  diamonds  and  jewels  she 
secretly  disposed  of  was  believed  to  have  been 
destined  for  Paris-Duvernay. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

Fl 'jury's  Economy.  —  Mimi  and  Titite.  —  "Notre  Toulouse."  — 
Mdlle.  de  Vichy-Chamroud.  —  A  Singular  Caprice.  —  The 
Epidemic  —  Ennui.  —  An  Interesting  Couple.- — A  Desolate 
Normandy  Chateau.  —  The  Menagerie  in  Eclipse. —  Emerg- 
ing from  the  Cloud.  —  "  Le  Poeme  de  la  Eigne."  —  A  Pious 
Theft.  —  A  Noble  Chevalier.  —  "  Rohan  je  suis." — Homage 
to  Madame  du  Ueffant. —  "Adieu,  la  Belle  France." 

r 

■O  festivities,  no  amusements.  Dulness 
as  depressing  as  in  the  gloomiest  days 
of  Louis  XIV.  has  succeeded  the  dis- 
sipations of  the  regency.  Those  who  shared  in 
the  pleasures  of  that  corrupt  society  are  in  despair. 
They  looked  for  gaiety  and  a  perpetual  round  of 
fetes  and  diversions  on  the  young  monarch's 
emancipation  from  the  control  of  tutors  and  gov- 
ernors. But,  from  the  time  when  roused,  by  M. 
le  Due's  conduct,  to  that  temporary  display  of 
energy  and  authority  which  led  to  so  entire  a 
change  in  the  personnel  of  the  government,  he 
had  fallen  back  to  the  monotonous  and  secluded 
mode  of  life  most  congenial  to  his  apathetic  tem- 
perament. 

Fleury,  secure  against  court  intrigues,  passed 
much  of  his  time  at  Issy,  cogitating  in  retire- 
ment  on   the   best   means    of    maintaining    peace 

218 


FLEURY'S  ECONOMY  219 

with  neighbouring  kingdoms,  and  in  devising 
schemes  for  economizing  the  revenue.  Like  the 
great  Sully,  whom  in  this  he  resembled,  he  was 
willing  to  put  money  into  the  treasury,  but  grum- 
bled exceedingly  at  any  undue  demands  on  it. 
But  while  he  reduced  the  customary  lavish  ex- 
penditure of  the  king's  household,  and  gained 
his  docile  pupil's  willing  assent  to  it,  he  also 
abolished  the  most  oppressive  of  the  taxes  laid 
upon  the  people  by  his  predecessor.  This,  on 
the  one  hand,  displeased  the  courtiers  ;  they  would 
not  recognize  a  necessary  or  wise  economy,  but 
parsimony  only,  in  the  diminished  pomp  and 
parade  of  the  court.  But,  on  the  other,  the 
timely  relief  afforded  a  suffering  people,  by  the 
removal  of  a  portion  of  its  burden  of  imposts, 
gained  the  confidence  and  good-will  of  the  nation. 
It  gave  renewed  buoyancy  to  long-cherished  hopes 
that  with  the  reign  of  Louis  XV.  the  despotism 
which  marked  the  rule  of  the  Grand  Motiarque, 
and  the  flagrant  depravity  that  disgraced  the 
regency,  would  give  place  to  a  more  beneficent 
administration  of  public  affairs,  and  a  better  ex- 
ample of  social  life.  The  prudent,  moderate  and 
upright  minister,  on  whom  the  young  king's  free 
choice  had  first  fallen,  was  a  guarantee  of  the 
monarch's  desire  for  the  welfare  and  prosperity 
of  his  people.  The  pleasure  he  evidently  took 
in  the  society  of  his  pious  and  amiable  queen 
surely,    also,    boded    that    the    reign    of    domestic 


220  THE   OLD   REGIME 

virtue  in  France  had  begun  at  Versailles,  and  in 
the  palace  where  it  had  hitherto  been  a  stranger. 
But  such  expectations  were  then  the  jest  of  the 
salons. 

"We  are  to  have  a  Mimi  and  Titite  at  Ver- 
sailles, I  hear."  The  lady  who  speaks,  laughs 
in  that  sneering,  cynical  way  so  characteristic  of 
the  Marquise  du  Deffant. 

It  is  she  who  throws  out  this  remark  for  the 
amusement  of  the  company  assembled  in  the 
salon  of  her  apartment  in  the  Rue  St.  Dominique. 
And  very  amusing  they  find  it  ;  for  Mimi  and 
Titite  are  names  which,  in  derision,  the  beau 
monde  has  given  to  the  Comte  and  Comtesse  de 
Toulouse.  They  actually  so  far  forget  what  is 
due  to  society  as  to  appear  in  public  together, 
unaccompanied  by  intimate  friend  of  either  sex. 
Often  they  may  be  met  sauntering  in  the  grounds 
of  their  chateau,  just  like  any  poor  peasant  couple 
on  their  estate  ;  or,  again,  taking  a  quiet  canter 
in  the  forest,  with  no  other  companion  than  the 
young  Due  de  Penthievre.  This  son  la  haute 
societe 'has  christened  "notre  Toulouse"  —  it  being 
a  bourgeois  habit  to  speak  of  the  heir  of  the  house 
by  the  father's  surname.  M.  et  Mdme.  Toitot- 
Leblond  would  call  their  eldest  or  only  son, 
"notre  Toitot  "  —  reversing  the  English  mode, 
"our  Jack"  or  "our  Dick,"  instead  of  "our 
Jackson  or  Dickson." 

But    as    many   laughs   are   raised    just   now   at 


MDLLE.   DE    V1CHY-CHAMR0UD  221 

the  expense  of  the  marquise,  in  other  salons,  as 
by  the  wit  and  the  cynicism  with  which  she 
attacks,  in  her  own,  the  follies  of  others.  She 
knows  it,  however,  and  is  unaffected  by  it ;  for 
she  knows  that  the  dear  friends  who  compose 
her  society  are  as  little  inclined  to  spare  her  as 
she  to  spare  them,  when  it  is  a  question  between 
a  reputation  and  an  epigram.  Were  it  otherwise, 
what  would  become  of  esprit  ?  and  hers  is,  par 
excellence,  le  salon  ties  beaux-esprits,  and  of  the 
new  school  of  philosophism  —  though  not  arrived 
at  the  period  of  its  greatest  celebrity  and  influ- 
ence. The  marquise  has  scarcely  yet  taken  up 
the  sceptre  of  a  queen  of  society,  and  constituted 
herself  the  protectress  of  philosophy  and  the 
philosophers. 

At  this  time  she  is  about  thirty-one  or  thirty- 
two  years  of  age,  and,  professedly,  "  la  femme  tie 
France  la  pins  cn/?//j>c'e."  A  sceptic  and  cynic 
she  has  been  from  her  childhood.  She  is  of  a 
noble  but  impoverished  Burgundian  family  — 
De  Vichy-Cham roud.  Having  no  fortune,  her 
parents  were  glad  to  marry  her  to  the  Marquis 
du  Deffant,  many  years  her  senior,  and  far  from 
wealthy,  but  who  is  said  to  have  been  an  esti- 
mable and  honourable  man,  of  whom  there  were 
few  in  those  days.  He  was  sincerely  in  love 
with  her,  also,  and  possessed  at  least  a  position 
in  society  and  a  home  to  offer,  such  as  a  girl 
without  a  dowry  could  hardly  hope  for  in  France. 


222  THE    OLD   REGIME 

Emancipated  by  marriage  from  all  inconvenient 
restraints,  the  marquise  arrived  in  Paris  and  fig- 
ured prominently  amongst  the  fair  ladies  of  the 
regent's  court.  She  was  less  remarkable  for 
beauty  than  caustic  wit  —  a  quality  which  first 
attracted  the  regent,  but,  eventually,  an  inju- 
dicious application  of  it  was  the  means  of  her 
losing  his  favour.  The  poor  marquis,  who  ap- 
pears to  have  been  as  humble  and  obedient  a 
husband  as  any  lady  could  desire,  was  the  passive 
victim  of  his  young  wife's  caprice,  and,  even  worse 
than  caprice,  bad  temper  and  discontent.  She 
entirely  discarded  him  at  last  —  preferring  the 
exclusive  society  of  her  ami  iutimc. 

She  had  already  begun  to  play  the  part  of  an 
ennuyee>  therefore  could  not  long  support  the 
society  of  her  friend ;  and  as  she  at  that  time 
succeeded  to  an  annuity  of  four  thousand  ecus, 
she  sought  a  reconciliation  with  the  marquis,  and 
proposed,  as  advantageous  to  both,  that  they 
should  unite  their  incomes,  and,  giving  up  friend- 
ship, live  together  in  bourgeois  fashion.  The 
marquis  was  delighted  with  the  idea,  and  acceded 
without  hesitation  to  her  proposal.  Her  friends, 
Mdmes.  de  Parabere,  Ai'sse,  de  Prie,  de  Tencin, 
and  their  circle  generally,  were  much  amused  at 
the  singularity  of  this  caprice.  Their  laughter 
changed  not  her  purpose ;  nor  was  she  moved 
from  it  by  a  torrent  of  reproaches  from  her  for- 
saken cicisbeo.    This  innovation  —  the  ami  intime, 


THE  EPIDEMIC  — EXNUI  223 

or  domestic  lover,  being  a  recognized  institution 
—  was  a  really  bold  step,  which  might  have 
brought  about  the  abolition  of  the  nuisance  of 
intimate  friends  generally,  but  for  that  terrible 
malady  —  ennui.  For  the  space  of  two  months 
all  went  on  smoothly,  even  happily,  as  far  as 
the  marquis  was  concerned.  Her  family  was 
also  much  pleased  with  the  change. 

But,  alas!  "All  that  is  bright  must  fade." 
The  lady's  resolve  to  share  her  husband's  home 
faded  away  under  the  influence  of  a  returning  fit 
of  ennui.  She  declared  she  could  endure  his 
presence  no  longer,  and  hastened  away,  lest  ennui 
should  give  place  to  disgust.  Ennui  was  an  epi- 
demic as  prevalent  then,  it  would  seem,  as  vapours 
or  nerves.  The  king  was  affected  by  it,  and, 
more  or  less,  society  generally.  The  remedy, 
with  the  king,  was  alternate  seclusion  and  the 
Rambouillet  chase ;  with  society,  it  was  the  salon, 
though  not  always  an  effective  one. 

The  separate  income  of  the  marquise  was  hardly 
equal  to  the  expense  of  setting  up  a  salon  —  a 
salon  that  should  compete  with  that  of  Madame  cle 
Tencin  or  of  Madame  de  Lambert — who,  in  spite 
of  her  eighty-two  years,  still  received  weekly,  and 
gave  her  famous  Thursday  dinners. 

Literature  and  philosophy  scarcely  cared  to 
show  themselves  where  there  was  no  prospect  of 
dinner  or  supper.  But  where  the  good  things  of 
life  were  liberally  provided,  it  mattered  not  at  all 


224  THE    OLD   REGIME 

to  which  section  of  society  the  lady  who  did  the 
honours  belonged.  What  suppers  and  dinners 
were  given  by  the  popular  singers  and  actresses  ! 
Mdlle.  Le  Couvreur,  for  instance ;  the  singers 
Mdlle.  Lemaure  and  Madame  Pellissier  —  between 
whom  great  rivalry  existed,  the  beau  monde  being 
undecided  to  which  lady  to  award  the  palm  of  prima 
donna.  Again,  Mdlle.  Antier,  who,  as  Ceres,  had 
won,  by  the  charm  of  her  singing,  the  heart,  as  it 
was  called,  of  the  Vicomte  Lamothe-Houdancourt, 
not  only  gave  suppers  herself,  but,  with  her  lover, 
was  invited  to  those  of  ladies  of  high  rank.  So- 
ciety, we  learn,  was  greatly  edified  by  the  "passion 
reciproque"  of  this  interesting  couple.  The  enthu- 
siasm of  the  gentleman,  the  smiling  tenderness  of 
the  lady — "Ah!  c 'c'tait  vraimant  channant  a  voir." 
"Alas!  the  pity  on't !"  —  It  did  not  last  long. 

If  society  smiled  on  this  interesting  pair  of 
lovers,  it  looked  severely  on  Madame  du  Deffant. 
The  outraged  feelings  of  the  intimate  friend  she 
had  forsaken  for  her  husband  commanded,  as 
naturally  they  would,  general  sympathy.  Now, 
indeed,  he  had  his  revenge,  and  laughed  as 
heartily  at  the  marquis  as  at  the  friendless 
marquise.  It  was  then  that  the  order  to  retire  to 
her  estates  was  received  by  Madame  de  Prie. 
The  marquise,  availing  herself  of  this  circumstance, 
thought  it  would  be  well,  until  society  had  had  its 
laugh  out,  to  go  into  exile,  also.  Ennnyee  in  Paris, 
she  yet  failed   to   reflect  what   she  would   be   at 


A  DESOLATE   NORMANDY  CHATEAU      225 

Courbe-Epine —  her  sole  companion  a  disap- 
pointed, desponding  intrigante.  Naturally,  she 
found  life  intolerable  in  that  desolate  Normandy 
chateau.  Her  fit  of  ennui  was  more  real  than  any 
she  had  known  before.  She  therefore  determined 
to  return,  leaving  her  dear  friend  to  loneliness, 
grief  and  despair,  which,  as  we  know,  death  by  her 
own  hand  soon  after  put  an  end  to. 

On  returning  to  Paris,  the  marquise,  to  her 
surprise,  received  a  visit  from  the  Bishop  of  Cler- 
mont. Her  relative,  the  Duchesse  de  Charost, 
believing  that  scepticism  and  irreligion,  more  than 
ennui,  were  the  cause  of  her  unsettled  frame  of 
mind  and  general  discontent,  fancied  that  Massil- 
lon  misrht  be  able  to  reason  her  into  a  better  state 
of  feeling.  Madame  du  Deffant,  speaking  of  their 
interview,  says,  "  My  understanding  was  abashed 
before  the  greatness  of  his  intellect ;  yet  I  sub- 
mitted not  to  the  force  of  his  reasoning,  but  to 
the  importance  of  the  reasoner." 

The  salon  of  Madame  de  Tencin  was  at  that 
time  suffering  a  partial  eclipse ;  it  might  have 
proved  a  total  one  but  for  the  money  expended 
in  bribes  and  the  influence  of  the  archbishop,  her 
brother.  The  numerous  "  bites "  who  composed 
her  menagerie  also  exerted  themselves  to  help  her 
out  of  her  trouble,  being  unwilling  to  lose  their 
mistress  and  the  good  cheer  with  which  she  pro- 
vided them.  Yet  her  position,  for  awhile,  was 
regarded  as  a  perilous  one. 


226  THE    OLD  REGIME 

M.  La  Fresnaye,  Conseiller  au  Grand  Conseil, 
after  heavy  losses  at  the  gambling  table,  shot  him- 
self in  the  boudoir  of  Madame  de  Tencin.  The 
ball  passed  through  his  heart,  and  he  died  on  the 
instant.  The  President  and  Procureur  were  sent 
for,  and  the  Conseiller  was  buried,  at  Madame  de 
Tencin' s  request,  secretly,  and  in  the  night.  This 
strange  story  was  told  about  Paris  the  next  day, 
and  with  many  particulars  so  unfavourable  to  the 
Chanoinesse  that  she  was  arrested  and  conveyed 
to  the  Chatelet,  and  thence  to  the  Bastille.  A 
paper  was  found  in  the  desk  of  La  Fresnaye  "  to 
be  opened  only  after  his  death,  and  in  the  pres- 
ence of  his  creditors."  Instead  of  an  arrangement 
respecting  his  affairs,  which  it  was  supposed  to 
contain,  it  was  a  statement  that  he  was  ruined  by 
the  arts  and  deceptions  of  Madame  de  Tencin, 
and  that  if  he  died  a  violent  death  it  was  she  who 
should  be  accused  of  it.  She  was  one  of  those 
monsters,  he  said,  who  ought  to  be  expelled  the 
kingdom,  being  capable  of  the  vilest  deeds. 

Much  more  followed,  but  the  paper  was  con- 
demned as  malicious  and  untrue,  and,  after  two 
months'  detention,  she  was  released  from  confine- 
ment, secure  from  any  renewal  of  the  accusations 
against  her.  Anxiety  had  told  on  her  health.  She 
was  advised,  therefore,  on  her  liberation,  immedi- 
ately to  set  out  for  her  estates  in  Dauphine,  to  re- 
cruit both  health  and  spirits  before  reappearing 
to   shine   once   more   as   a  bright   particular    star 


EMERGING   FROM    THE    CLOUD  227 

amongst  her  coterie  of  beaux  csprits  and  betes 
pJiilosophcs. 

La  belle  marquise,  meanwhile,  established  her- 
self in  more  unpretending  style  than,  formerly,  in 
her  hotel  in  the  Rue  Ste.  Anne.  She  gave  her 
circle  of  learned  wits  and  celebrities  "  the  a  I ' An- 
glaise."  Her  suppers  or  dinners  were  never  far- 
famed,  but  she  was  recognized  as  "  ////  monstre 
dy  esprit"  whose  sentiments  favoured  the  advance 
of  the  " grande  cause."  Montesquieu,  when  in 
Paris  during  the  vacation  of  the  parliament  of 
Bordeaux,  of  which  he  was  president,  was  one  of 
the  most  constant  frequenters  of  her  salon.  The 
first  success  of  his  "  Esprit  des  Lois  "  was  due  to 
her  exertions  in  distributing  copies,  and  to  her  pro- 
fessed admiration  of  the  work  as  a  most  spirit 'it el 
and  remarkable  production  of  a  man  of  genius. 
Such,  indeed,  was  the  usual  mode  of  launching  a 
book.  The  Parisian  booksellers'  trade  was  not 
then  a  flourishing  one,  so  difficult  was  it  to  obtain 
permission  to  publish  "  Ave  c  privilege  du  roi." 

The  books  most  in  request  were  not  those 
openly  exposed  for  sale  on  the  steps  of  the  Sainte 
Chapcllc,  but  those  which  glided  furtively  into 
France  from  the  presses  of  Amsterdam  or  Brus- 
sels. Voltaire  was  refused  permission  to  print  his 
"  Henriade."  He  had  desired  to  dedicate  it  to  the 
king,  and  it  was  presented  by  Richelieu.  Fleury 
declined  to  receive  it ;  yet  it  was  not  condemned. 
A  few  copies,  however,  printed   elsewhere,  were 


228  THE    OLD   REGIME 

distributed  in  Paris  amongst  private  friends.  This 
coming  to  the  knowledge  of  some  of  the  clergy, 
application  was  made  for  authority  to  seize  them, 
with  a  view  of  suppressing  the  work  entirely  by 
means  of  ecclesiastical  censure.  It  was  then  en- 
titled "  Le  Poeme  de  la  Ligue,"  and  was  said  to 
contain  passages  favouring  the  errors  of  the  "semi- 
Pelagians."  But  it  was  its  advocacy  of  toleration, 
and  especially  the  appreciative  lines  on  Coligny,* 
that  offended  the  clergy,  in  whom,  with  some 
honourable  exceptions,  a  persecuting  spirit  seemed 
to  be  thought  an  atonement  for  their  generally 
dissolute  lives. 

The  "  Henriade  "  was  published  by  subscription 
in  London,  and  dedicated  to  the  queen.  Voltaire's 
friend,  Thiriot,  received  subscriptions  for  the  work 
in  Paris,  and  payment  for  between  twenty  and 
thirty  copies  having  been  made,  he  put  the  amount 
aside  for  transmission  to  England.  Some  thief, 
however,  entered  his  apartment  while  he  was  ab- 
sent at  high  mass  on  Whit-Sunday  morning,  and 
stole  the  money.  (The  clergy  should  have  caught 
this  thief  and  canonized  him).  The  loss  fell 
wholly  on  Voltaire,  the  copies  subscribed  for  being 

*  To  speak  approvingly  of  Coligny,  Du  Plessis-Momay,  and 
other  Protestant  leaders,  was,  in  the  estimation  of  the  court,  to 
disseminate  sedition  ;  in  that  of  the  clergy,  to  propagate  heresy. 
"  Quels  grands  citoyens  que  Coligny,  La  Noue,  Du  Plessis- 
Mornay,  D'Aubigne,  meme,  s'i'ts  n'avaient  pas  ete  des  sectaires!  " 
exclaims  a  recent  bigoted  French  writer,  in  a  sort  of  apology  for 
the  persecuting  spirit  of  the  sixteenth  century. 


A    NOBLE    CHEVALIER  229 

delivered,  though  the  subscription  had  vanished. 
Yet  the  London  edition  of  the  "Henriade"  was  a 
most  successful  and  profitable  one. 

Montesquieu  visited  England  at  about  the  same 
time  as  Voltaire.  The  latter  had  left  France  on 
being  released  from  the  Bastille,  where  he  had 
been  imprisoned  for  six  months  for  sending  a  chal- 
lenge to  the  Chevalier  de  Rohan.  This  magnifi- 
cent personage,  possessing  no  merit  of  his  own, 
plumed  himself  greatly  on  his  noble  birth  and  the 
merits  of  his  ancestors.  He  disapproved,  it  ap- 
pears, of  the  distinction  with  which  Voltaire  was 
received  in  the  society  of  the  haute  voice.  He 
took,  therefore,  the  first  opportunity  that  offered 
(it  was  at  a  reunion  at  the  hotel  of  the  Due  de 
Richelieu)  of  showing  his  contempt  for  the  ple- 
beian poet  by  addressing  him  in  a  manner  his 
lackey  would  almost  have  resented.  Voltaire 
replied  in  a  politely  veiled  sarcasm,  which  amused 
all  present  except  the  chevalier.  He  was  highly 
incensed,  but  not  being  so  spiritucl  as  the  poet  he 
despised,  the  witty  sally  was  received  with  disdain- 
ful silence.  The  noble  chevalier,  however,  re- 
venged himself  by  ordering  his  servants,  a  day  or 
two  after,  to  insult  Voltaire  when  leaving  the  hotel 
of  the  Due  de  Sully,  with  whom  he  had  been  dining. 

The  two  lackeys  thrust  themselves  against  him, 
elbowed  him  roughly,  and  nearly  threw  him  down- 
stairs, at  the  same  time  greatly  enjoying  his  dis- 
comfiture,  and   treating  it   as   an   excellent   joke. 


230  THE    OLD   REGIME 

The  duke,  his  host,  expressed  his  regret,  but  took 
no  further  notice  of  the  matter.  The  chevalier 
was  a  scion  of  the  great  Rohan  family.  He  bore 
on  his  shield,  " Rohan  je  s/tis."  That  repelled  all 
who  would  dare  to  attack  him.  The  tribunals, 
too,  were  not  for  such  as  he.  No  magistrate 
would  presume  to  listen  to  an  accusation  against 
him,  much  less  to  punish  so  high  and  mighty  a 
delinquent.  But  Voltaire,  stung  to  the  quick  by 
the  unprovoked  insult  he  had  received,  after  taking 
some  lessons  in  the  use  of  the  sword,  challenged 
the  chevalier.  The  reply  was  a  Icttre-de-cacJict, 
and  an  apartment  in  the  Bastille. 

The  Due  de  Richelieu,  some  few  months  after, 
was  about  to  leave  Paris  in  very  grand  state,  as 
Ambassador  Extraordinary  to  the  Court  of  Vienna. 
He  and  Voltaire  were  on  intimate  terms,  and  as 
the  duke  was  at  that  time  in  favour  at  Versailles, 
and  had  obtained  in  his  appointment  to  this  em- 
bassy the  wish  of  his  heart,  and  facility  for  equip- 
ping himself  with  due  splendour — -by  means  of  it  11 
arret  de  surseance  to  shield  him  from  his  creditors  — 
he  resolved,  before  leaving,  to  do  his  poet  friend 
a  good  turn,  if  possible,  by  securing  his  speedy 
release.  He  spoke  to  the  king,  also  to  the  queen, 
who  had  but  recently  granted  a  pension  of  fifteen 
hundred  francs  to  Voltaire  from  her  own  private 
purse.  They  referred  him  to  Fleury,  who,  the 
affair  being  explained  to  him,  granted  the  duke's 
request  immediately. 


HOMAGE    TO   MADAME  DU  DEFFANT     23 1 

Naturally,  Voltaire's  six  months'  incarceration 
had  given  added  keenness  to  his  cynicism,  rather 
than  blunted  its  sting.  His  admiration  of  French 
institutions  had  at  the  same  time  diminished.  He 
determined,  therefore,  to  bid  adieu  for  a  time  to 
his  friends  of  the  salons,  to  the  budding  philoso- 
phers, and  to  the  many  fair  dames  he  adored. 
To  none  did  he  pay  greater  homage  than  to 
Madame  du  Deffant.  The  reign  of  the  "  sublime 
Emilie  "  had  not  then  begun,  and  the  esprit  fort  of 
the  marquise  commanded  his  highest  admiration. 
He  took  every  opportunity  of  speaking  of  her,  of 
vaunting  her  understanding,  of  flattering  her  im- 
agination, and  of  placing  her  on  the  very  best 
terms  with  herself,  though  her  excessive  egoism 
had  already  rendered  any  efforts  of  that  sort  super- 
fluous. He  praised  her  wit,  and  exaggerated  ex- 
cessively the  merits  of  those  bagatelles,  vers  de 
societc,  of  which  so  plentiful  a  crop  was  then  pro- 
duced, not  only  in  the  salon  of  the  marquise,  but 
in  every  other  salon  of  that  day. 

Of  the  poetic  trifles  of  Madame  du  Deffant, 
Voltaire  wrote  : 

"  De  qui  sont  ils  ces  vers  heureux, 
Le"gers,  faciles,  gracieux? 
Ils  ont,  corame  vous,  Part  de  plaire; 
Du  Deffant,  vous  etes  la  mere 
De  ces  enfants  ingdnieux." 


But    Voltaire     did     not     linger    long    in    Paris. 


232  THE    OLD   REGIME 

Having  bent  the  knee  before  the  spirituelle  marquise 
and  the  fair  Adrienne  Le  Couvreur,  and  embraced 
those  friends  he  called  his  " chers  angcs" —  the 
d'Argental  family  —  he  left  la  belle  France,  crossed 
the  Channel,  and  for  the  next  three  years  took  up 
his  abode  in  England. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

Prayers  for  a  Dauphin.  —  The  Prayer  is  Granted.  —  Louis  XV. 
a  Model  Husband.- — Baron's  Final  Retirement.  —  Death  of 
Adrienne  Le  Couvreur.  —  Jealous  Rivals.  —  Generosity  of 
Adrienne.  —  Burial  of  Mddle.  Le  Couvreur.  —  Voltaire's  Lines 
on  Adrienne. — Zaire,  ou  Les  Enfants  Trouves.  —  Grandval 
the  Actor. — -The  Prime  Donne  —  Rameau.  —  The  Abbe  Pel- 
ligem.  —  A  Musical  Cabal.  —  Voltaire  et  les  Danseuses. — The 
Apotheosis  of  Hercules.  —  Boucher's  Painting-Room. 

'RE AT  was  the  disappointment  of  the 
French  people  when,  in  August,  1727, 
it  was  announced  that  twin  daughters 
were  born  at  Versailles,  Madame  prcmihr,  et 
Madame  deuxicme.  Greater,  still,  was  the  outcry 
in  the  following  year,  when  Madame  troisicmc 
made  her  appearance.  The  queen  grieved  and 
wept.  She  felt  that  she  had  not  clone  her  duty 
to  the  nation.  But  the  king  consoled  her,  and 
received  the  third  little  princess,  we  are  told,  "  tres 
galamvicnt,  et  avee  courage;"  yet  he,  too,  would 
have  given  a-  much  warmer  welcome  to  a  son. 

However,  it  was  thought  advisable  to  petition 
heaven  for  a  dauphin,  and,  accordingly,  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Paris  ordered  public  prayer  to  be  made 
throughout  the  kingdom  for  an  heir  to  the  throne. 
The  king  and  queen  also  went  in  state  to  Paris  to 

">  ~y  i 

-  1.1 


234  THE  0LD   REGIME 

ask  the  intercession  of  Ste.  Genevieve.  Marie 
Leczinska  had  been  three  years  married,  but  this 
was  her  first  visit  to  the  capital.  The  Parisian 
world  was,  therefore,  anxious  to  see  its  queen,  and, 
though  not  too  well  satisfied  with  her,  gave  her 
a  cordial  reception  that  proved  cheering  to  her 
spirits.  Barbier  describes  her  as  petite,  slight  in 
figure,  and  rather  thin.  Other  accounts  speak  of 
her  as  above  the  middle  height,  and  of  graceful 
and  dignified  carriage,  while  one  of  her  ladies  of 
the  palace  says,  rather  contemptuously,  "  C est  une 
asses  bonne  pate  de  Polonaise ;  mais  un  pen  bour- 
geoises ct  tres  devote.''  All,  however,  are  agreed 
that  she  had  no  claim  to  beauty,  though  her  face 
was  not  unpleasing,  owing  to  its  amiable  and  gentle 
expression. 

She  wore,  we  learn,  on  this  occasion,  a  pale  pink 
robe  of  state,  with  scalloped  trimmings,  but  with- 
out ornament  of  gold  or  silver.  The  "  Sancy " 
glittered  in  her  hair,  the  twelve  Mazarin  diamonds 
on  her  arm,  set  as  a  bracelet ;  and,  besides,  the 
whole  of  the  crown  jewels,  apparently  —  with  the 
exception  of  the  "  Regent"  which  the  king  wore 
in  his  hat — were  arranged  as  stomacher,  necklace, 
or  other  ornament  for  her  dress  or  hair. 

Thus  brilliantly  arrayed,  and  accompanied  by 
the  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  their  household  in  full 
court  dress  and  in  the  royal  state  carriages,  their 
majesties  traversed  Paris.  The  glittering  show  de- 
lighted the  people,  who  rarely  witnessed  the  pomp 


LOUIS  XV.   A    MODEL   HUSBAND  235 

and  display  of  the  court  — royal  visits  to  Paris  being 
few  and  far  between.  Ste.  Genevieve  would  seem 
to  have  lent  a  favourable  ear  to  the  prayers  of  the 
royal  suppliants  and  their  faithful  lieges,  for  on 
the  4th  of  September  —  their  majesties'  wedding 
day — 1729,  the  nation  was  gladdened  by  the 
news  of  the  birth  of  a  dauphin. 

Few  public  rejoicings,  however,  took  place.  The 
king  gave  no  signal,  and  the  nation  was  as  indo- 
lent and  inert  on  the  subject  as  their  sovereign 
himself.  It  was  desirable  that  there  should  be  an 
heir  to  the  throne.  He  was  born.  King  and 
people  were  satisfied ;  there  was  an  end  of  it ;  and 
the  cardinal  was  far  too  anxious  to  restore  order 
in  the  financial  system  to  countenance,  much  less 
to  propose,  expenditure  on  fetes.  Unlike  Louis 
XIV.  in  his  youth,  Louis  XV.  shunned  gaiety, 
and  communicated  his  own  gloomy  apathy  to  the 
court.  Nothing  annoyed  or  bored  him  so  much 
as  having  to  take  any  part  in  a  public  ceremony 
or  fete.  He  would  scarcely  look  at  a  lady,  and  at 
that  time  was  quite  a  model  husband.  "La  relue," 
he  said,  " itait plus  jolie  que  les  plus  belles  dames  de 
la  cour."  But  his  constancy  to  the  wife  who  had 
been  chosen  for  him  was  owing  more  to  indif- 
ference than  admiration.  With  idleness  and 
quietude  he  was  then  perfectly  content,  and,  had 
he  not  been  interfered  with  by  the  more  actively 
evil-minded  young  men  of  his  court,  he  would 
have    gone  on  to  the  end  of    his  career,  simply, 


236  THE    OLD   REGIME 

un  roi  faineant,  instead  of  being  that  and  much 
more. 

But,  while  the  news  from  Versailles  was  received 
with  a  languid  satisfaction  by  the  beau  monde  of 
Paris,  another  and  widely  different  announcement 
excited  very  lively  regret  among  the  society  of  the 
capital.  It  was  that  of  the  final  performances  of 
Michel  Baron,  and  his  retirement  from  the  stage. 

Owing  to  the  greater  popularity  of  operatic 
performances,  both  at  the  Academy  of  Music  and 
Opera  Comique,  the  Theatre  Francais  had  received 
but  indifferent  support  until  the  reappearance  of 
Baron.  His  and  Mdlle.  Le  Couvreur's  inter- 
pretation of  the  principal  roles  in  the  plays  of 
Corneille  and  Racine,  and  the  tragedies  of  Voltaire 
and  La-Motte,  had  revived  the  vogue  of  the  The- 
atre, which  was  now  a  well-frequented  and  flourish- 
ing establishment.  As  Baron  still  trod  the  stage 
with  a  firm,  elastic  step,  his  form  erect,  his  bearing 
noble,  the  fire  of  his  eye  undimmed,  and  his  finely 
modulated  voice  yet  sonorous,  flexible  and  unfal- 
tering, his  intention  to  retire  caused  as  much  sur- 
prise as  when,  ten  years  before,  his  reappearance 
was  announced. 

Strength  of  will,  a  resolve  not  to  succumb  to  the 
infirmities  of  age,  bore  him  up  through  his  part  — 
"and,"  says  an  eye-witness,  "it  was  difficult  not 
to  yield  to  the  illusion  that  he  was  actually  the 
person  he  represented."  But,  the  play  ended,  it 
was  evident  that,  if  he  had  succeeded  for  awhile 


BARON'S  FINAL   RETIREMENT  237 

in  overcoming  physical  weakness,  he  had  suffered 
much  in  the  struggle.  He  accepted,  therefore, 
the  warnings  of  nature,  and  retired,  with  his  great 
reputation  undiminished.  His  acting  gave  a  tem- 
porary revival  of  public  favour  even  to  the  plays 
of  Pradon.  In  "Regulus,"  a  very  poor  tragedy,  he 
made  a  deep  impression  on  his  audience.  One  of 
his  last  appearances  was  as  Ladislaus,  in  Rotrou's 
play  of  "  Vencislaus."  Though  unaccustomed  to 
betray  any  emotion,  save  that  which  the  character 
he  represented  required,  on  that  occasion,  he  is 
said  to  have  hesitated  for  a  moment,  as  if  to  over- 
come personal  feeling  —  after  repeating  the  words, 
"Si proclie  du  cercueil,  on  jc  me  vois  descendre." 

The  farewell  to  Baron  was  an  ovation  on  the 
part  of  the  public.  He  died  in  the  following 
year,  supposed  to  be  not  less  than  seventy-seven 
or  eight.  Under  his  portrait  J.  B.  Rousseau 
wrote  : 

"  Du  vrai,  du  pathe'tique,  il  a  fixe  le  ton, 
De  son  art  enchanteur  l'illusion  divine 
Pretait  un  nouveau  lustre  aux  beautes  de  Racine 
Un  voile  aux  defauts  de  Pradon." 

In  the  same  year  that  the  death  of  Baron  oc- 
curred, the  Comedie  Francaise  lost  another  of  its 
popular  favourites  —  Adrienne  Le  Couvreur.  It 
was  then  customary  to  attribute  all  deaths  of 
which  the  exact  cause  was  not  known  to  poison. 
The  jealousy   of  the   Duchesse  de   Bouillon   was 


238  THE    OLD   REGIME 

said  to  have  occasioned  Adrienne's  by  means  of 
poisoned  pastilles  administered  to  her  by  a  young 
abbe.  It  is  a  story  unworthy  of  credit,  though 
probably  Scribe's  play  may  have  contributed  to 
gain  credence  for  it.  The  Comte  Maurice  de 
Saxe  was  the  fickle  lover  of  both  those  ladies. 
But  it  does  not  appear  that  the  duchess  —  who, 
like  the  actress,  had  a  large  circle  of  amis  intimes 
—  was  so  jealous  of  wholly  monopolizing  the  at- 
tentions of  that  butterfly  personage  as  to  poison 
a  former  mistress ;  or,  that  the  actress  was  so 
piqued  by  their  transfer  to  another,  that,  forget- 
ting what  was  due  to  the  audience,  she  addressed, 
from  the  stage,  the  pointed  speeches  of  Phedre  — 
a  part  she  was  playing  —  to  the  duchess  in  her 
box,  and  was  rewarded  for  this  impertinence  and 
bad  taste  by  the  plaudits  of  the  whole  house. 
Mdlle.  Sauvre,  on  some  other  occasion,  is  said  to 
have  addressed  a  favoured  rival  from  the  stage; 
but  the  fickle  lover  was  not  Maurice  de  Saxe,  and 
the  audience  was  the  reverse  of  sympathetic. 

Voltaire,  one  of  the  most  enthusiastic  of  Mdlle. 
Le  Couvreur's  host  of  admirers,  repudiated  the 
idea  of  poison,  and  attributed  her  death  to  a  vio- 
lent attack  of  dysentery.  She  took  no  care  of 
her  health,  was  near  forty  years  of  age,  and  had 
led  a  life  in  accordance  with  the  licentiousness 
of  the  period,  which  was  not  only  little  severe 
towards  an  actress,  necessarily  exposed  to  very 
great    temptations,   but    could    also    regard    with 


GENEROSITY  OF  ADRIENNE  239 

complacency  the  open  depravity  of  snch  grandes 
dailies  as  the  Dnchesse  de  Boufflers,  granddaugh- 
ter of  the  Marechal  de  Villeroi.  Voltaire  himself 
introduced  to  Adrienne  a  friend  who  became  a 
rival  —  his  cher  ange,  the  Comte  d' Argental  - 
who  would  have  married  la  belle  net  rice ;  but  she 
declined  his  suit,  to  the  great  relief  of  his  family. 

She  doubtless  felt  more  than  a  passing  regard 
for  the  faithless  Maurice  de  Saxe.  To  enable  him 
to  equip  his  soldiers  when  he  proposed  to  recover 
the  principality  of  Courland  -  -  to  the  sovereignty 
of  which  he  had  been  elected,  but  was  excluded 
from  by  Russia  —  Adrienne,  who  was  generous  to 
prodigality,  supplied  him  with  the  sum  of  forty 
thousand  francs,  the  product  of  the  sale  of  her 
jewels.  Very  sincere,  too,  was  her  regret  when, 
not  long  before  her  death,  she  heard  that  he  had 
gone  to  a  ruinous  expense  and  incurred  debts  in 
the  construction  of  a  "galcrc,"  which,  propelled 
by  mechanism,  and  probably  steam,  was  to  make 
the  voyage  up  the  Seine,  from  Rouen  to  Paris,  in 
twenty-four  hours.  He  had  obtained,  on  the  cer- 
tificates of  two  men  of  science,  testifying  to  the 
utility  of  this  project,  a  privilege  or  patent  from 
the  king.  But  in  spite  of  the  efforts  of  the  best 
scientific  skill  and  labour  then  obtainable,  he  never 
succeeded  in  getting  the  apparatus  into  working 
order.  "Mais,  que  (liable  allait-il-faire  dans  cette 
galcre?"  exclaimed  Adrienne  when  she  heard  of 
his  scheme  and  its  failure. 


24O  THE    OLD    REGIME 

Priestly  aid  was  not  sought  for  Mdlle.  Le  Cou- 
vreur  until  it  was  too  late  to  confess,  to  declare 
that  she  renounced  her  profession,  and  to  receive 
absolution.  Christian  burial  was  therefore  re- 
fused, though  the  large  sum  of  a  hundred  thou- 
sand francs,  which  she  charitably  left  to  the  poor, 
was  not  rejected  by  the  Church,  as  consistently 
it  should  have  been,  as  the  gift  of  an  cxcom- 
muniee.  Two  street  porters  were  employed  to 
carry  her  body,  in  the  night,  to  the  corner  of 
the  Rue  de  Bourgogne,  and  to  bury  her  there. 
Baron  had  dreaded  a  like  indignity,  but  provided 
against  it  by  timely  arrangements  with  the  Church. 
Yet  he  invariably  asserted  that  he  had  never  felt 
the  smallest  scruple  to  declaiming  before  the  pub- 
lic the  ckefs-d'ceuvre  of  the  genius  of  the  great 
French  authors;  and  that  nothing,  he  conceived, 
could  be  more  irrelevant  than  to  attach  shame 
and  disgrace  to  the  reciting  of  a  work  which  it 
was  deemed  glorious  to  have  composed. 

"  I  have  seen,"  says  Colle,  in  his  memoirs, 
"  Baron,  Le  Couvreur,  and  Les  Ouinault,  and 
they  gave  me  the  idea  of  perfection  —  and  espe- 
cially Baron;  though,  when  I  saw  him,  he  could 
not  have  been  less  than  seventy-three  or  seventy- 
five  years  of  age." 

Thus  passed  away,  almost  at  the  same  time, 
these  two  great  stars  of  the  Theatre  Francais. 
The  indignant  lines  written  by  Voltaire,  on  the 
ignominy  cast  on  the  great   French  actress  by  the 


ZAIRE,    OU  LES  ENFANTS    TROUVES      24 1 

countenance  of  the  priesthood  to  such  a  burial  as 
hers,  were  the  cause  of  his  again  being  obliged  to 
leave  Paris.  He  retired  to  Normandy,  where  he 
wrote  "  Zaire."  The  performance  of  the  graceful 
Mdlle.  Gaussin  in  the  principal  part  quickly  con- 
soled him  for  the  loss  of  Adrienne,  who,  as  some 
persons  thought,  was  excelled  by  her  successor ; 
art  —  as  was  the  case  with  Baron  —  intelligently 
subdued,  aiding  and  heightening  the  effect  of  her 
natural  gifts.  Of  Adrienne,  Voltaire  wrote,  "La 
nature  settle  Vavait  i us trtt it e,  et  Cupidon  achevait 
V  enseignement"  Voltaire's  play  of  "Zaire" 
achieved  an  immense  success,  and  many  were 
the  heartburnings  it  caused  amongst  would-be 
rivals.  To  cast  ridicule  upon  it  in  the  salons, 
they  gave  it  a  new  title,  "  La  piece  des  enfants 
trouves."  This  raised  many  a  laugh,  but  did 
not  diminish  the  success  of  the  play.  Writing 
tragedies  and  comedies  —  which  sometimes  were 
read  in  the  salons,  but  rarely  produced  on  the 
stage  —  was  as  much  a  mania  at  that  period  as 
the  writing  of  novels  in  the  present  clay. 

After  the  retirement  of  Baron  and  the  death 
of  Mdlle.  Le  Couvreur,  the  popularity  of  the 
Comedie  Francaise  seems  to  have  declined  for 
awhile.  Yet  it  maintained,  undiminished,  its  rep- 
utation as  the  first  theatre  in  Europe,  the  dra- 
matic ability  of  the  several  members  of  its  troupe 
forming,  as  was  generally  acknowledged,  an  assem- 
blage of  talent  unrivalled  elsewhere.      Yearly,  the 


242  THE    OLD   REGIME 

old  repertoire  was  gone  through,  Rotrou,  Cor- 
neille,  Moliere,  Racine,  Pradon,  and  Crebillon's 
early  tragedies.  New  productions  were  less  gen- 
erally approved  by  the  constant  habitue's  of  the 
theatre.  The  success  of  a  new  play  might  be 
great,  yet  it  would  be  allowed  only  a  limited  num- 
ber of  representations. 

There  were,  it  appears,  fewer  successful  com- 
edies than  tragedies,  yet  Grandval,  who  contributed 
so  much  to  make  the  fame  of  "  Le  Glorieux,"  was 
then  in  high  repute  both  as  an  actor  and  as  "  the 
glass  of  fashion."  Grands  seigneurs  studied  his 
looks,  his  gestures,  his  manner  of  carrying  his 
cane,  of  presenting  his  snuff-box,  of  taking  off  his 
hat,  his  grandly  deferential  air  when  conversing 
with  ladies,  his  entries  and  exits,  and  the  graceful 
toumure  of  the  whaleboned  skirts  of  his  coat. 
Happy,  indeed,  were  many  of  the  jetmesse  dore'e  if, 
after  diligent  practice,  they  went  forth  from  their 
cabinets  Grandvals  ;  but,  in  their  own  opinion, 
Grandvals  improved --so  far  surpassing  their 
model  that  they  who  studied  most  to  catch  the 
airs  and  graces  of  the  actor  were  fond  of  jesting 
in  the  salons  on  Grandval's  amusing  assumption 
of  the  manners  of  the  Jiautc  volee. 

But  the  most  powerful  counter-attraction  to  the 
Theatre  Francais  was  at  all  times  the  opera. 
At  this  period,  disputes  ran  so  high  respecting 
the  pre-eminence  in  talent  and  beauty  of  the  three 
prime  donne,  that   swords  were  drawn   and  blood 


THE   TRIME   DONNE  243 

was  shed.  Happily  it  flowed  not  from  fatal 
wounds,  but  from  slight  scratches  and  gashes, 
which  the  ladies'  admirers  respectively  felt  com- 
pelled, in  honour,  to  give  and  receive  whenever  a 
word  in  disparagement  of  the  object  of  his  ado- 
ration was  uttered  in  his  presence.  It  was  often 
elegantly  said  of  Mdlle.  Lemaure,  that  she  was 
"betecomme  un  pot."  She  had  a  fine  voice,  but 
no  musical  culture,  and  little  natural  intelligence. 
But  she  had  a  pretty  face,  and  was  always  splen- 
didly dressed. 

They  were  advantages  that  counted  for  much, 
for  musical  taste  was  but  little  developed ;  Lulli 
most  frequently  occupied  the  scene,  and  the  audi- 
ence was  familiar  to  weariness  with  the  chief  of 
his  productions.  Madame  Pellissier  was  an  artiste 
of  greater  pretensions,  whose  merits  were  recog- 
nized by  the  more  critical  part  of  her  hearers. 
Little  Mdlle.  Antier  was  both  clever  and  pretty, 
and  sang,  it  was  said,  with  the  tenderness  of  the 
dove,  which,  reminding  one  of  a  monotonous  coo- 
ing, does  not  seem  very  high  praise.  Of  the  male 
singers,  Thevenard,  Chasse  and  Murane  were  most 
in  favour.  Murane  was  subject  to  frequent  fits  of 
religious  melancholy,  and  inclined  to  migrate  from 
the  operatic  stage  to  the  cloister.  It  is  probable 
that  Francine,  Lulli's  son-in-law,  who  so  long  had 
the  direction  of  the  opera  of  the  Academy,  may 
have  been  the  cause  of  Lulli's  music  being  for  so 
many  years  almost  exclusively  given  there. 


244  THE    0LD   REGIME 

When  Destouches,  the  musician,  in  1724,  suc- 
ceeded Francine  in  the  management  of  the  opera, 
he  brought  forward  his  own  musical  compositions, 
which  were  rather  below  than  above  mediocrity. 
Compra,  a  better  musician,  but  inferior  composer, 
was  not  more  successful.  Yet  the  talented 
Rameau,  whose  musical  gifts  had  been  evident 
from  childhood,  who  had  studied  his  art  in  Italy, 
had  published  a  treatise  on  harmony,  studies  in 
counterpoint,  and  other  theoretical  works,  with 
some  successful  sonatas  for  the  clavecin,  on  which 
he  was  a  skilful  performer,  could  scarcely  obtain, 
by  teaching,  in  Paris,  the  bare  means  of  subsist- 
ence. 

He  had  sought  the  appointment  of  organist  at 
one  of  the  churches  of  Paris,  but  had  failed  to 
obtain  it,  owing  to  the  opposition  he  had  met  with 
from  the  paltry  intrigues  of  jealous  mediocrity. 
Disgusted  and  disheartened,  and  suffering  from 
distress,  he  was  glad  to  accept  the  place  of  organ- 
ist of  the  Cathedral  of  Clermont,  in  Auvergne,  his 
hopes  of  rising  to  distinction  in  the  musical  world 
being  thus  long  deferred,  and,  at  first,  apparently 
at  an  end. 

In  1723,  Michel  Monteclair,  first  contrebasse  of 
the  Orchestra  of  the  Academy  of  Music,  produced 
an  opera,  "Jephte,"  which  the  director  accepted, 
and  which  was  well  received  by  the  public. 
Rameau,  who  was  present  at  its  first  representa- 
tion, was  moved  by  the  applause  bestowed  on  it 


THE   ABBE  PELLIGEM  245 

to  abandon  his  theoretical  writings  for  the  compo- 
sition of  operatic  music.  Yet  there  seems  to  have 
existed  somewhere  a  persistent  determination  to 
thwart  his  hopes.  To  get  a  hearing,  he  wrote  the 
music  for  Piron's  piece,"  "  La  Rose,"  which  was 
produced  at  the  Theatre  de  la  Foire  of  St.  Ger- 
main, the  composer's  name  being  withheld.  It 
was,  however,  very  successful,  and  the  airs  became 
popular. 

The  Abbe  Pelligem,  a  writer  of  canticles  — 
which  it  was  his  singular  custom  to  adapt  to  airs 
of  the  Pont-Neuf,  or  tunes  of  the  satirical,  often 
ribald,  songs  of  the  people  —  had  written  a  dra- 
matic poem  entitled  "  Hippolyte  et  Anne."  Per- 
suaded by  Mdme.  de  la  Popliniere  —  wife  of  the 
wealthy  fermier-general,  and  daughter  of  Daucour, 
of  the  Theatre  Francois  —  who  had  been  a  pupil 
of  Rameau,  the  abbe  entrusted  his  poem  to  the 
poor  organist  to  set  to  music.  This  was  quickly 
done,  and  the  piece  produced.  A  cabal,  mean- 
while, was  got  up.  Enthusiastic  Lullists  were 
joined  by  some  of  the  singers,  and  it  was  deter- 
mined that  Rameau's  music  should  not  be  heard, 
but  be  put  down  at  once. 

The  house  was  well  filled  ;  all,  however,  were 
not  opponents.  Those  who  went  intending  to 
hear  appear  to  have  been  as  numerous  as  those 
who  had  determined  that  nothing  should  be  heard. 
Numerous  interruptions  occurred.  A  large  num- 
ber of  the  rioters  were  ejected,  and,  notwithstand- 


246  THE    OLD   REGIME 

ing  the  great  disadvantages  of  so  tumultuous  a  first 
representation,  enough  was  heard  by  competent 
connoisseurs  to  convince  them  that  France  pos- 
sessed a  musician  of  genius.  That,  in  fact,  a 
greater  than  Lulli  was  there.  Laborde,  writing  of 
him,  says,  "  La  musique  doit  a  Rameau  autant  que 
la  physique  doit  a  Newton."  But  Rameau  was  fifty 
years  of  age  before  his  talent  obtained  recognition, 
and  even  then  it  was  but  grudgingly  granted  — 
the  Lullist  and  Ramist  contest  being  kept  up  for 
sometime.  His  opera  of  "Castor  and  Pollux" 
completed  his  triumph.  The  world  then  ran  after 
him,  lauded  him  as  before  it  had  dispraised  him, 
and  librettists  innumerable  besieged  him  with 
offers  of  collaboration. 

Another  great  attraction  at  the  opera  was  the 
ballet.  Nicolet,  and  Mdlles.  Salle  and  Camargo 
were  the  principal  dancers,  and  the  corps-de-ballet, 
generally,  was  very  efficient. 

"  Oh  !  Carmago,  que  vous  etes  brillante  ! 
Mais,  que  Salle  est  beaucoup  plus  ravissante," 

wrote  Voltaire,  uncertain  to  which  of  these  divini- 
ties, "  filles  de  Terpsichore  et  1' Amour,"  the 
greater  homage  was  due. 

There  is  a  very  graceful  picture  by  Lancret, 
the  pupil  and  imitator  of  Watteau,  of  Mdlle.  Salle 
as  a  wood-nymph. 

"  Ses  pas  sont  mesures  par  les  graces 
Et  composes  par  les  amours," 


VOLTAIRE   ET  LES  DANSEUSES  247 

again  writes  the  enraptured  Voltaire.  But  when 
Mdlle  Camargo,  whose  dancing  is  described  as 
having  the  appearance  of  flying,  once  more,  flutter- 
ing her  gauzy  wings,  dazzles  him  by  her  rapid 
flight  across  the  stage,  he  writes,  — 

"  Camargo  vole  en  ces  beaux  lieux 
On  voit  sans  toi  languir  nos  yeux, 
De  tes  pas  la  vivacite, 
Est  l'image  de  la  volupte  ; 
Pour  te  suivre  les  jeux,  les  ris, 
Ont  quitte*  la  cour  de  Cypris." 

The  scenery,  dresses,  and  decorations  were 
splendid.  The  opera,  indeed,  never  succeeded  in 
paying  its  expenses,  so  costly  were  its  scenic 
effects  and  general  arrangements.  The  state  had 
continually  to  release  the  directors  from  debt. 
Yet  the  opera  was  greatly  patronized,  and  the 
salaries  of  the  principal  singers  and  dancers  were 
small,  compared  with  those  received  by  the  great 
artistes  of  the  present  day.  The  great  outlay  was 
in  stage  decorations  and  dress. 

The  famous  Boucher  now  painted  the  scenery. 
He  was  a  pupil  of  Lemoine,  the  painter  of  the 
"Apotheosis  of  Hercules,"  on  the  ceiling  of  the 
grand  salon  of  Versailles.  The  work  occupied 
him  four  years,  but,  as  he  fancied  that  it  did  not 
meet  with  due  appreciation  from  the  king  and  the 
cardinal,  the  disappointment  preyed  on  his  mind, 
and  in  a  moment  of  despair  he  committed  suicide. 


248  THE    OLD   REGIME 

Boucher  did  not  equal  his  master,  and  was  inferior 
to  Watteau,  whom  he  imitated.  He  had  but  lately 
returned  from  Italy,  where  he  had  joined  Carle 
Vanloo.  Italy,  however,  was  not  to  his  taste.  He 
loved  Paris  and  the  libertine  life  he  led  there.  He 
cared  not  for  the  old  masters,  and  preferred  to 
paint  figurantes  to  saints.  Yet,  in  purely  decora- 
tive art,  Boucher  was  unrivalled. 

Soon  after  his  return  to  France  he  fell  in  love, 
at  first  sight,  with  a  young  girl,  who,  with  her 
beauty  and  a  large  basket  of  cherries,  made  a  very 
pretty  picture,  as  she  sat  selling  her  fruit  at  the 
corner  of  a  street  in  Paris.  This  young  girl  be- 
came his  mistress,  but  soon  after  died,  when 
Boucher,  to  dispel  his  deep  grief,  plunged  into  a 
course  of  reckless  dissipation.  The  grief  was 
quickly  dispelled,  it  appears,  as  he  shortly  after 
married,  but  the  dissipation  continued.  In  spite 
of  his  meretricious  style  and  the  adverse  crit- 
icism he  met  with,  Boucher  became  the  fashion, 
and  painted  fair  dames  of  every  degree  and  every 
shade  of  philosophy.  His  painting-room  was  a 
perfumed  boudoir,  draped  with  plaited  pink  silk 
and  curtained  and  festooned  with  pale  blue  satin. 


ffl^ame  <>c  Gencin 


CHAPTER    XX. 

A  Drawing-Room  Picture.  —  The  Young  Comte  de  Mirabeau. — 
Rival  Gambling  Salons.  —  The  Foundling,  d'Alembert. — 
The  Irrepressible  Bull.  —  Mdlle.  Uaucour. — The  Rich 
Fermier-General.  —  The  Hotel  La  Popliniere.  —  A  Scene  of 
Enchantment. — -A  French  Mephistophiles.  —  The  Banished 
Wife.  — The  Infamous  de  Richelieu. 

iHAT  a  tapage  at  the  Francais  last 
night !  "  murmurs  a  lady,  as  with  an  in- 
dolent air  she  reclines  on  the  cushions 
of  a  crimson  brocaded  and  gold-laced  canape  in  the 
salon  of  Mdme.  de  Tencin.  She  has  scarcely  the 
air  of  a  Frenchwoman.  Her  eyes  are  large,  dark 
and  lustrous.  She  wears  no  rouge,  and  the  clear, 
pale  bistre  tint  of  her  complexion,  the  strongly 
marked  eyebrows,  and  masses  of  dark  hair  coiled 
round  her  head,  en  diademe,  and  guiltless  of  pow- 
der, seem  to  denote  an  Oriental  origin.  Her  dress 
is  of  rich  material,  and,  on  the  whole,  is  of  the 
fashion  of  the  day.  Yet  it  so  far  differs  in  many 
of  its  details  from  the  prevailing  taste  as  to  appear 
an  adaptation  of  la  mode  to  the  style  and  fancy  of 
the  wearer,  more  than  a  full  concession  to  fashion's 
decrees. 

A  little  negro,  fancifully  attired,  stands  near  the 

249 


25O  THE    OLD   REGIME 

end  of  the  canape,  fluttering  a  large  bunch  of  mar- 
about plumes.  Most  ladies  at  this  period  had  an 
attendant  negro  boy,  but  rarely  did  he  appear  so 
harmonious  an  accessory  as  in  the  very  pretty 
picture  formed  by  this  lady  and  her  slave. 

"  And  what  was  the  cause  of  the  tapage,  ma 
chere?"  inquires  Madame  de  Tencin,  as  she  glances 
at  two  young  men  in  earnest  conversation  at  the 
further  end  of  the  salon,  and  who  both  are  her 
proteges  —  one,  indeed,  is  her  reputed  son  ;  they 
are  the  younger  Helvetius  and  d'Alembert. 

"  All  the  news  and  on-dits  of  the  day,"  she  con- 
tinues, "  reach  you,  ma  belle  Haidec,  sooner  even 
than  Madame  du  Deffant,  though  Pont  de  Veyle 
carries  his  daily  budget  to  her.  But  then  you 
see  him  first,  and  you  have  d'Argental's  report 
besides." 

"  I  heard  this  from  the  chevalier,"  replies  the 
lady.  "  He  was  at  the  Francais  when  a  party  of 
young  officers  entered  and  called  loudly  for  one  of 
Moliere's  plays,  '  Le  Tartuffe,'  I  think,  instead 
of  '  Britannicus,'  the  piece  announced.  To  not 
a  word  of  the  latter  would  they  listen  ;  the  actors 
were  hissed  whenever  they  attempted  to  speak. 
The  disturbance  at  last  became  so  general  that 
the  police  with  difficulty  ejected  the  rioters  and 
some  of  the  audience  who  had  joined  them.  Fore- 
most among  them  was  the  dissipated  young  Comte 
de  Mirabeau,*  who  has  fallen  desperately  in  love 

*  Father  of  the  great  orator. 


THE    YOUNG    COMTE   DE   MIR  ABE AU      25  I 

with  Mdlle.  d'Angeville,  and  vows  he  will  marry 
her  in  spite  of  his  family." 

"  Young  Mirabeau  marry  d'Angeville  !  '  ex- 
claimed Helvetius,  advancing  towards  the  ladies. 
"  He  could  as  easily  persuade  the  old  marquis 
himself  to  consent,  as  prevail  on  her  to  do  so. 
She  read  his  tender  billets-doux  last  night  for  the 
amusement  of  the  company  at  supper  at  La  Oui- 
nault's.  Mirabeau  will  be  on  his  way  to  Besancon 
to-morrow.  Duras's  regiment  is  there,  and  he 
joins  it." 

"  Poor  boy  !  "  sighs  the  lady  on  the  sofa;  "he 
is  but  seventeen." 

Madame  de  Tencin  replies  not  ;  her  thoughts 
have  been  turned  to  other  objects.  "They  play 
at  Cavagnole,  and  play  high  at  La  Ouinault's?" 
she  says,  inquiringly. 

"  Sometimes,  Madame,"  replies  Helvetius. 

"  You  were  there,  then,  last  night  ?  " 

"Frankly,  yes,  Madame." 

"And  d'Alembert?" 

"  D'Alembert,  also."  Helvetius  answers  for 
him,  and  a  smile  passes  over  the  face  of  the 
young  man.  For  nowhere  is  gambling  more 
reckless,  more  ruinous,  than  in  the  salon  of 
Madame  de  Tencin.  Helvetius  is  wealthy;  he  is 
a  protege  she  is  proud  of.  He  is  young,  handsome, 
spiritnel ;  professes  atheism,  and  is  approved  by 
Voltaire.  She  feels  that  society  is  greatly  in- 
debted  to  her   for   discerning   the   merits   of  this 


252  THE    OLD   REGIME 

brilliant  young  man,  and  producing  him  in  the 
salon  at  so  early  an  age.  Yet  his  superfluous 
cash,  she  considers,  should  not  be  diverted  from 
her  tables  to  fill  the  purses  of  actresses. 

As  for  d'Alembert,  except  for  a  certain  interest 
she  takes  in  him,  it  matters  not  at  all.  He  has 
nothing  to  lose.  His  only  assured  income  is  a 
yearly  allowance  of  twelve  hundred  francs  from 
the  Chevalier  Destouches,  his  reputed  father. 
D'Alembert,  as  an  infant  of  a  few  days  old,  was 
found,  abandoned,  on  the  steps  of  the  church  of 
Saint  Jean-Tourniquet  by  a  glazier,  who  took  pity 
on  the  poor  child  and  carried  him  home  to  his  wife. 
These  good  people  brought  him  up  as  their  own 
son,  his  education  being  provided  for  by  Madame 
de  Tencin. 

When  she  perceived  that  he  gave  promise  of 
becoming  distinguished  among  men  of  science  and 
gens  de  lettrcs,  she  was  desirous  of  acknowledging 
him.  But  d'Alembert  declined  the  honour,  saying, 
"  The  only  mother  he  knew  was  the  woman  who 
rescued  and  nursed  him  in  infancy."  On  the 
other  hand,  it  is  asserted  that  he  was  so  mortified 
at  the  generally  supposed  obscurity  of  his  birth, 
that  he  would  have  been  only  too  happy  to  have 
accepted  the  recognition  of  Madame  de  Tencin  or 
Destouches,  had  they  really  offered  it.  However, 
he  frequents  her  salon,  and  her  patronage  is  useful 
to  him.  She  has  lost  none  of  her  prestige  by  the 
misadventure  that  caused  her  temporary  eclipse. 


THE   IRREPRESSIBLE   BULL  253 

She  has  resumed  her  place,  and  shines  as  bril- 
liantly as  ever  among  the  stars  of  the  Parisian 
beau  monde.  Arrived,  too,  at  that  uncertain  period 
of  life  called  middle  age,  Madame  de  Tencin  is 
even  more  distinguished  than  before.  Forbidden 
philosophical  books  are  secretly  circulated  through 
her  influence ;  young  men  are  formed  in  manners, 
initiated  in  the  principles  of  the  new  school  of 
thought,  and  develop  their  talent  for  esprit  in  her 
sa/on. 

Her  brother,  the  archbishop,  a  firm  partizan  of 
the  Bulle  Unigenitus,  is  at  this  time  engaged  in 
persecuting  the  venerable  old  bishop  of  Senez, 
who  has  opposed  the  Bull,  and  is  suspected  of 
Jansenism.  Fleury,  so  fond  of  peace,  is  much 
disturbed  by  this  resurrection  of  the  irrepressible 
Bull,  as  well  as  by  the  scenes  of  daily  occurrence 
in  Paris  in  the  cemetery  of  St.  Medard.  There, 
a  fanatical  Jansenist,  known  as  the  Diacre-Paris, 
has  recently  been  buried,  and  miracles  are  said 
to  take  place  at  his  tomb.  The  cemetery  is 
thronged.  The  lame  man  carried  there  at  once 
casts  aside  all  aid,  and  returns  home  running  and 
leaping.  The  blind  see,  the  dumb  speak,  the 
deaf  hear  —  so  it  is  affirmed.  The  people,  how- 
ever, are  more  inclined  to  profane  jesting  than 
reverence,  and  the  philosophers  protest  against 
such  scenes  as  the  work  of  a  knavish  priest- 
hood. The  cemetery  is  to  be  closed,  and  Ten- 
cin,   to    whom    such    work    is    a    labour    of    love, 


2  54  THE    0LD   REGIME 

relieves  the  aged  Fleury  from  much  trouble  and 
anxiety  by  his  success  in  putting  down  the  scan- 
dals of  Jansenism  and  compelling  acceptance  of 
the  Bull. 

Madame  de  Tencin  has,  therefore,  some  in- 
fluence with  the  cardinal-minister,  and,  having 
become  devout,  has  exerted  it  on  the  side  of 
morality.  It  was  she  who  induced  the  cardinal 
to  refuse  the  wealthy  La  Popliniere  the  renewal  of 
his  term  of  fermier-general  unless  he  made  his 
mistress  his  wife.  He  had  long  promised  to  do 
so ;  but  Mdlle.  Daucour,  the  lady  in  question,  com- 
plained of  the  delay  in  the  performance  of  his 
promise.  Madame  de  Tencin  was  her  friend. 
Into  her  sympathetic  ear  she  poured  the  story 
of  her  wrongs.  Virtuously  indignant,  she  under- 
took Mdlle.  Daucour' s  cause,  requesting  only  se- 
crecy on  her  part.  A  word  to  the  cardinal,  and  a 
hint  from  the  king  —  who  desired  that  his  court 
and  his  people  should  follow  his  example  of  con- 
jugal fidelity  —  very  soon  after  made  Mdlle. 
Daucour  Madame  de  la  Popliniere. 

M.  de  la  Popliniere  was  not  perhaps  the  richest 
of  the  financiers  of  Paris.  The  famous  Samuel 
Bernard  was  no  doubt  a  much  richer  man,  and  the 
extreme  benevolence  of  his  character  led  him  to 
make  a  far  nobler  use  of  his  wealth  than  M.  de 
La  Popiiniere  did  of  his.  The  latter  was  chiefly 
known  for  his  magnificent  style  of  living.  His 
hotel  in  the  Rue  St.  Antoine  was  furnished  with 


THE  HOTEL    LA    POPLINIERE  255 

a  splendour  that  vied  with  that  of  the  Hotel 
Lesdiguieres. 

His  "petite  maison"  at  Auteuil,  on  a  smaller 
scale,  was  a  sort  of  palace  of  the  genii.  Boucher 
was  called  from  his  silk-draped  boudoir  to  paint 
on  the  panels  of  the  salons  some  of  those  ex- 
quisite designs  in  which  he  so  greatly  excelled. 
There  were  fine  specimens  of  Natoire's  far-famed 
decorative  work,  and  portraits  of  belles  dames  de 
V opera  by  Carle  Vanloo  and  Largilliere,_/?/jr  (who 
was  called  the  Vandyke  of  France,  and  who  con- 
tinued to  paint  portraits  with  undiminished  skill 
until  near  the  age  of  ninety).  M.  de  La  Popliniere 
was  not  only  a  liberal  patron  of  the  arts,  but 
a  giver  of  sumptuous  banquets.  His  hotel  was 
the  general  resort  of  the  beaux  esprits,  bous 
vivants,  philosophers,  stars  of  the  theatrical  and 
musical  world,  painters  of  celebrity,  and  a  fair 
sprinkling  of  the  noblesse. 

Naturally,  the  incense  of  flattery  was  unspar- 
ingly bestowed  on  him.  It  is,  therefore,  not  sur- 
prising to  find  him  a  little  vain  of  his  social 
achievements.  But  he  was  a  remarkably  genial 
host,  rather  distinguished  in  appearance,  and  hav- 
ing married  Mdlle.  Daucour,  he  presented  her  to 
his  friends  with  some  pride.  For  she  was  a 
young  and  charming  woman,  very  musical,  witty 
and  agreeable,  and,  as  he  conceived,  did  honour  to 
his  choice.  Foreigners  of  distinction  often  visited 
M.  de  La  Popliniere.      A  portion  of  his  hotel  was 


256  THE    OLD   REGIME 

set  apart  for  the  reception  of  the  virtuosi  of  other 
nations,  who,  when  sojourning  in  Paris  for  awhile, 
accepted,  as  his  guests,  the  hospitality  of  his 
princely  establishment.  Italian  painters,  sculp- 
tors, and  musicians  were  sure  of  a  gracious  wel- 
come, both  from  Monsieur  and  Madame. 

Rameau,  patronized  by  Madame  de  La  Popli- 
niere,  had  an  apartment  assigned  him,  with  the 
appointment  of  organist,  a  chapel,  also  a  small 
theatre,  being  attached  to  the  hotel.  In  the  bijou 
sallc  de  spectacle,  Rameau  officiated  as  chef 
d 'orchestre.  On  Sundays,  at  mass,  he  improvised 
on  the  organ.  The  mingled  sweetness  and  sad- 
ness of  his  strains,  his  "  scnsibilitc  7'e/ijfieuse,"  as 
Diderot,  then  young,  was  accustomed  to  say, 
greatly  impressed  his  hearers,  and  none  more  than 
Diderot  himself  —  the  most  highly  gifted  of  the 
philosophic  band,  though,  unhappily,  of  so  ill-or- 
ganized a  mind. 

The  pctits  soupcrs  at  Auteuil  outrivalled  all 
others.  Not  merely  in  the  repast  itself,  in  the 
magnificent  silver  table  service,  of  artistic  design 
and  exquisite  workmanship,  but  in  the  general 
arrangements.  Guests,  taken  there  for  the  first 
time,  are  said  to  have  been  as  startlingly  surprised 
as  though  some  brilliantly  lighted  scene  of  en- 
chantment had  suddenly  opened  before  them. 
Perfumes,  flowers,  scenic  illusions,  music,  instru- 
mental and  vocal,  by  unseen  performers  —  a  per- 
fect intoxication  of  the  senses.      No  wonder  that 


A    FRENCH  MEPHISTOPHILES  257 

Mdllc.  Daucour  should  have  desired  permanently 
to  dwell  in  this  fairy  bower  ;  that  she  should  have 
been  grateful  to  her  dear  Madame  de  Tencin  for 
the  word  in  season  dropped  into  the  ear  of  the 
good  cardinal,  always  so  anxious  to  help  society  to 
reform. 

She  was  a  much  envied  woman  in  the  beau 
monde  of  Paris,  in  spite  of  a  singularly  laughable 
crotchet  of  M.  de  la  Popliniere,  who,  while  adopt- 
ing in  other  respects  the  manners  and  customs  of 
the  haute  voice,  was  actually  so  barbaric  in  his 
ideas  that  he  refused  to  allow  his  wife  the  ser- 
vices of  an  ami  intimc.  He  chose  to  take  the 
duties  of  that  office  on  himself,  and  was  so  boy- 
ishly romantic  as  to  allow  it  to  appear  that  he 
had  an  affectionate  regard  for  his  wife.  Some 
sharp-sighted  ladies  kept  a  vigilant  eye  on  her, 
just  to  see  how  she  bore  such  tyranny.  But  all 
went  on  well  until  "this  long  dream  of  happi- 
ness," as  it  was  jestingly  termed,  was  one  evening 
the  subject  of  conversation  and  laughter  in  a  salon 
where  a  number  of  ladies  were  amusinjr  them- 
selves  with  their  "  purfling,"  and  gentlemen  with 
their  embroidery.  One  of  them  was  that  Mephis- 
tophilcs  of  French  society,  of  whom  it  was  said, 
"quilavait  rc'solu  de  s ' emparer  du  monde,  comme 
le  serpent  Vavait  fait,  par  la  fcnimc  " — the  in- 
famous Due  de  Richelieu. 

Hitherto  he  had  honoured  La  Popliniere  with 
but    little    of     his     company.      The     reunions    of 


258  THE    OLD   REGIME 

artistes  possessed  small  attractions  for  him,  and 
the  host,  to  his  mind,  was  far  too  pretentious  — 
putting  himself  on  a  level  with  grands  seigneurs 
such  as  he,  though  Richelieu,  in  fact,  had  but 
little  to  plume  himself  upon  in  his  ancestry. 
However,  he  has  now  a  worthy  motive  for  renew- 
ing his  acquaintance  with  the  magnificent  finan- 
cier, to  whom  anonymous  notes  are  soon  after 
constantly  addressed,  attributing  disparaging  con- 
duct to  his  wife.  He  has  confidence  in  her  and 
disregards  such  insinuations.  But  during  her 
absence  at  a  fete,  a  more  explicit  letter  reaches 
him.  He  is  induced  to  push  his  enquiries  further, 
and,  to  his  intense  dismay,  he  is  compelled  to  give 
credence  to  the  accusations  against  her.  He 
orders  that  the  doors  be  closed,  and  admission 
refused  on  her  return.  News  of  what  has 
occurred  is  carried  to  her.  Meeting  with  her 
husband's  friend,  the  Marechal  de  Saxe,  she  prays 
him  to  take  her  home  in  his  carriage.  He  does 
so,  and  thrusting  aside  the  servant,  who  would 
prevent  her  from  entering,  he  leads  her  to  her 
husband.  "  Listen,"  he  says,  "for  a  moment  to 
your  wife  ;  she  desires  to  justify  herself  in  your 
eyes."      He  then  leaves  them  together. 

La  Popliniere  is  in  a  distracted  state  of  mind  ; 
he  turns  sadly  from  his  wife,  when,  throwing 
herself  on  her  knees,  she  implores  forgiveness  for 
the  wrong  she  has  clone  him.  Her  confession  in- 
creases both  his  anger  and  his  grief.      He  desires 


THE   INFAMOUS  DE   RICHELIEU  259 

her  to  leave  his  house,  and  she  does  so  on  the 
following  day,  to  take  up  her  abode  in  a  humble 
cottage  at  Passy,  with  a  small  monthly  allowance 
for  her  support  from  her  husband.  There  she 
pines  away;  grief,  remorse,  despair  soon  do  their 
work,  and  La  Popliniere  is  released  from  the  fair, 
frail  wife  who  had  so  bitterly  deceived  him,  but 
whom,  nevertheless,  he  unceasingly  regrets.  As, 
at  the  marriage  of  Mdlle.  de  Valois,  Richelieu 
presented  himself  to  gaze  unmoved  on  the  grief 
of  the  young  girl  whose  love  he  had  won,  and  who 
was  sacrificing  herself  for  him,  so  this  insidious 
seducer  had  the  audacity  and  barbarity  similarly 
to  insult  the  erring  wife  who,  so  weakly  yielding 
to  his  blandishments,  had  brought  ruin  and  dis- 
grace on  her  head. 

Richelieu  had  then  just  married  his  second 
wife,  Mdlle.  de  Guise,  the  heiress  of  the  Due  de 
Lorraine.  But  he  confessed  that  what  pleased 
him  most  in  this  marriage  was  the  right  it  gave 
him  to  add  the  cross  of  Lorraine  and  the  golden 
eaglets  of  a  sovereign  house  to  his  family  arms. 
He  therefore  was  not  restrained  by  any  feeling  for 
his  bride  from  gratifying  his  desire  to  ascertain 
how  the  financier's  wife  was  affected  by  the  sud- 
den transition  from  affluence  and  happiness  to 
straitened  means,  neglect  and  contempt. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

The  a  l'Anglaise  and  a  Lecture. —  The  Queen's  Privy  Purse. — 
The  President  Henault.  —  Le  Marquis  d'Argenson.  —  De- 
fence of  the  Cardinal.  —  The  Cardinal's  Petit  Coucher. — 
Mademoiselle  Ai'sse.  — The  Chevalier  d'Aydie. — The  Sleep 
of  Death. — -History  of  the  Fair  Ilaidee.  —  Les  Devotion- 
nettes.  —  A  Warning  Sign  from  on  High.  —  Miss  Black. 

LETTER  informing  Madame  de  Ten- 
cin  of  the  death  of  her  friend  and 
protegee,  Madame  de  la  Popliniere,  was 
put  into  her  hands  when  her  thoughts  were  occu- 
pied, as  we  have  noticed,  with  the  rival  gambling 
tables  of  the  salon  Quinault.  It  afforded  her  a 
ready  theme  for  moralizing,  as  well  on  the  sad 
event  itself,  as  generally  on  the  manners  of  the 
age.  Having  left  off  rouge,  she  could,  of  course, 
with  much  propriety,  be  severe  on  that  subject. 
And  she  was  severe,  for  the  especial  benefit  of 
the  two  youths,  Helvetius  and  d'Alembert,  respect- 
ing whose  success  in  society  —  not  the  society  of 
actresses,  as  she  remarked  —  she  might  naturally 
be  supposed  to  feel  anxious,  as  they  had  made 
their  debut  under  her  auspices  and  in  her  salon. 

With  well  simulated  reverence  they  listened  to 
the  preaching  of  the  reformed  sinner  (for  such   in 

260 


THE   A    UANGLAISE   AND   A    LECTURE     26 1 

some  sense  she  was),  while  sipping  their  tea, 
ordered  in  as  a  support  to  her  lecture.  TJie  a 
V Anglaisc,  in  the  more  severe  salons,  such  as  that 
of  Madame  de  Tencin,  was  preferred  as  an  accom- 
paniment to  conversation,  and  "  a  something  to 
do,"  to  purfling  dccoupurc,  or  cutting  out  pictures, 
and  the  working  of  worsted  roses. 

The  tea-table  is  placed  in  front  of  the  sofa, 
where  the  Circassian  lady  reclines,  though  not  so 
much  from  indolence  as  because  she  is  ill.  Her 
malady  is  consumption,  a  very  prevalent  one  at 
the  period  in  question.  It  is  a  fitful,  deceptive 
disease.  She  fancies  to-day  that  she  really  has 
nothing  but  a  slight  feeling  of  languor  to  over- 
come, and  she  will  be  perfectly  well.  Hence,  her 
visit  to  Madame  de  Tencin,  who,  after  being  her 
inveterate  enemy,  is  become  her  very  dear  friend, 
but  may  be  her  enemy  again.  It  is  the  way,  you 
know,  of  womankind  to  be  thus  capricious  in  their 
so-called  friendships.  But  let  us  not  moralize :  it 
is  "  flat,  stale,  and  unprofitable  "  so  to  do. 

The  warnings  and  teachings  of  the  usually  spi- 
rituelle  Madame  de  Tencin  had  reached  the  very 
verge  of  drowsiness,  when  two  habitues  of  her 
salon  fortunately  dropped  in  and  turned  the  slug- 
gish current  of  conversation  into  another  channel. 
One  of  the  arrivals  was  the  president,  Henault, 
controller  of  the  queen's  household,  and  keeper  of 
her  privy  purse  —  the  last  an  office  of  no  great 
responsibility,  for  the  cardinal  allowed  but  little  to 


262  THE    OLD   REGIME 

be  put  into  the  purse.  Its  disbursements  were, 
therefore,  scarcely  more  important  than  the  dis- 
tributing of  Hards  to  the  poor.  The  queen  had, 
indeed,  complained  to  the  king  of  the  cardinal's 
stinginess  ;  he,  however,  only  recommended  her 
to  follow  his  example,  and  ask  him  for  nothing, 
when  she  would  be  sure  of  meeting  with  no 
refusal. 

But  Henault  has  a  literary  reputation,  and  it  is 
founded  on  his  chronological  histories  of  France, 
Spain  and  Portugal.  His  suppers  have  made  him 
famous  in  social  circles,  and  his  esprit  has  gained  him 
brevet  rank  in  the  salon  of  the  vivacious  Duchesse 
du  Maine.  There  are  people  who  consider  Henault 
as,  before  all  things,  un  bon  vivant.  But  his  gour- 
mandise,  we  learn,  was  the  " gourmandise  des  gens 
a" esprit" — an  enlightened  appreciation  of  the 
nuances  of  flavour  in  savoury  dishes,  and  the  deli- 
cate bouquet  of  choice  wines.  Madame  du  Deffant 
said  of  the  president  (he  was  president  of  the  par- 
liament of  Paris),  that  "  supper  was  one  of  the 
essential  qualities  of  the  man.  Take  that  away, 
what  remains  to  him  ? "  she  asked.  Voltaire 
judged  differently,  and  often  addressed  flattering 
lines  to  his  friend,  whose  talent  he  could  appre- 
ciate as  well  as  his  suppers  : 

"  Henault,  fameux  par  vos  soupers 
Et  par  votre  chronologie, 
Par  des  vers  au  bon  coin  frappe's 
Pleins  de  douceurs  et  d'harmonie. 


LE   MARQUIS  D'ARGENSON  263 

"  Les  femmes  vous  ont  pris  fort  souvent 

Pour  un  ignorant  fort  aimable ; 
Les  gens  en  7ts,  pour  un  savant, 

Et  le  Dieu  joufrlu  de  la  table 
Pour  un  connaisseur  fort  gourmand." 

Henault  has  but  just  left  Madame  de  Deffant, 
more  than  usually  oppressed  by  the  demon  ennui. 
He  has  confided  her  to  the  tender  care  of  another 
devoted  friend,  the  Marquis  de  Pont  de  Veyle. 
Often  the  marquis  spends  the  livelong  day  seated 
at  one  corner  of  her  fireplace,  the  marquise  occu- 
pying the  opposite  side  —  he,  gazing  upon  her,  as 
though  enjoying  the  spectacle  of  a  martyr  to  ennui ; 
she,  affecting  not  to  be  aware  of  his  presence. 

The  other  addition  to  Madame  de  Tencin's 
tea-table  guests  is  the  Marquis  d'Argenson,  a 
severe  censurer  of  the  manners  and  morals  of  the 
period. 

He  complains  of  the  mauvais  ton  that  now  pre- 
vails in  circles  that  once  were  called  la  bonne  societe. 
Conversation,  he  says,  is  a  thing  of  the  past.  Phi- 
losophy, intent  only  on  breaking  down  the  barriers 
that  should  separate  classes,  fills  every  salon  with 
a  heterogeneous  mob,  amongst  whom  he  finds 
himself  a  stranger,  and  far  more  solitary  than 
when  alone  in  his  study,  with  no  society  but  that 
of  his  books.  "  If,"  he  continues,  "any  subject  of 
interest  should  perchance  be  introduced  in  these 
salons,  immediately  the  frivolous  company  begin 
to  laugh,  to  yawn,  to  talk  all  at  once,  to  ask  ques- 


264  THE    OLD   REGIME 

tions  the  most  irrelevant,  being  too  idle  to  listen, 
too  ignorant  to  reason.  He  can  compare  them 
only  to  a  number  of  birds  twittering  in  a  bush, 
and  all  piping  at  random,  each  one  striving  only  to 
be  loudest." 

The  salon  in  which  he  has  for  years  been  accus- 
tomed to  lament  over  the  decadence  of  good  man- 
ners no  longer  exists.  Madame  de  Lambert  has 
passed  away,  at  the  age  of  eighty-six.  "  In  her 
circle,  courtesy  was  a  sentiment  of  the  mind,  and 
humanity  dwelt  in  the  heart.  The  politeness 
which  has  taken  the  place  of  courtesy  consists 
of  an  infinity  of  words  without  meaning ;  while 
humanity,  having  left  the  heart  for  the  lips,  has 
no  longer  any  base  of  esteem  or  affection." 

The  marquis  is  an  admirer  of  the  cardinal- 
minister.  "  They  who  would  like  to  see  him 
superseded,"  he  says,  "deny  him  the  genius  of 
a  statesman,  and  condemn  his  policy  as  wanting 
in  breadth  and  boldness.  "  Yet,"  urges  the  mar- 
quis, in  the  warmth  of  his  attachment  to  the  old 
cardinal,  "  he  has  given  proof  of  the  possession  of 
the  ministerial  qualities  of  justness  and  solidity  in 
his  views  and  intentions,  and  of  frankness  and 
good  faith  in  his  dealings  with  foreigners.  His 
policy  is  sufficiently  adroit  without  being  treach- 
erous ;  he  is  clear-sighted  enough  to  discern  the 
snares  and  traps  laid  for  him  by  courtiers  who 
would  displace  him,  and  he  cleverly  avoids  them, 
or,  at  times,  turns  them  to  account,  without  resort- 


DEFENCE    OF   THE    CARDINAL  265 

ing  to  perfidious  means  or  adopting  Machiavellian 
measures." 

Replying  to  the  questioning  of  the  ladies, 
d'Argenson  informs  them  that  he  was  present 
on  the  previous  evening  at  that  most  ridiculous 
yet  amusing  spectacle,  called  by  the  people,  "  le 
petit  coucher  of  the  cardinal-king."  What  prece- 
dent the  cardinal  could  produce  for  assuming  such 
a  prerogative  to  belong  to  the  post  he  fills,  the 
marquis  declares  he  knows  not.  For  Floury  ac- 
cepts no  title  but  that  of  minister  of  state,  though 
it  is  certain  that  the  whole  power  of  the  state  is  in 
his  hands  —  far  more  so,  and  more  uncontestedly, 
than  it  was  ever  possessed  by  Richelieu  by  means 
of  his  numerous  executions,  or  by  Mazarin  with  all 
his  intrigues. 

Every  evening  the  whole  of  the  court,  with 
gentlemen,  tradespeople,  the  idle  and  the  busy, 
are  waiting  at  the  doors  of  the  cardinal's  apart- 
ment. When  his  eminence  has  passed  into  his 
dressing-room,  the  doors  are  opened,  the  people 
enter  and  assist  at  the  cardinal's  preparations  for 
bed.  They  see  him  divest  himself  of  his  clothing, 
put  on  his  nightshirt,  and  comb  his  flowing  white 
locks,  which  time  has  now  very  much  thinned. 
During  this  operation  he  speaks  of  the  chit-chat 
and  news  of  the  day,  interspersed  with  many  a  jest 
and  boii-mot,  sometimes  good,  sometimes  bad,  but 
all  of  which  are  laughed  at  and  applauded  by  his 
auditors.      Some  remonstrances  on  this  practice  of 


266  THE    OLD    REGIME 

joking  in  public  were  addressed  to  him  by  the 
Abbe  de  Pomprona,  who  has  much  influence  with 
the  old  cardinal,  and  wished  to  convince  him,  with- 
out actually  saying  so,  that  his  joking  was  rather 
undignified.  He  told  him  an  epigram  or  two, 
then  current,  respecting  the  petit  coucher  itself. 
But  Fleury  has  not  seen  fit  to  make  any  change 
-  believing  the  people  to  be  anxious  to  see  him, 
and  having,  as  he  said,  no  other  spare  time  in 
which  to  gratify  them  without  intruding  on  the 
hours  devoted  to  business  of  state. 

As  the  marquis  ceases  speaking,  Mdlle.  Ai'sse, 
or  the  fair  Haidee,  as  she  is  sometimes  called, 
rises  from  the  canape.  The  fair,  pale  face  is  sud- 
denly suffused  with  a  roseate  glow ;  the  large,  soft 
eyes  light  up  with  pleasure.  How  graceful,  how 
elegant  her  figure  !  By  the  beauty  that  remains 
one  perceives  how  beautiful  she  must  have  been 
in  the  first  blush  of  youth,  when  her  charms  were 
the  theme  of  general  admiration,  and  she  was 
celebrated  as 

"  Aissd  qui  de  la  Grece  epuisa  la  beauteV' 

She  is  now  thirty-eight  or  thirty-nine  years  of 
age;  une  poitrinairc,  fading  away  daily,  though 
she  cannot  realize  what  is  clearly  apparent  to  all 
but  herself.  The  change  from  languor  to  anima- 
tion has  been  caused  by  the  entrance  of  the 
Chevalier  d'Aydie,  a  relative  of  the  Marquis  de 


THE    CHEVALIER  D' A  YD  IE  267 

Saint-Aulaire,  and  a  knight  of  Saint  John  of  Jeru- 
salem. It  is  the  dream  of  Haidee  that  this  lover 
of  hers  does  not  marry  her  because  she  will  not 
consent  to  an  alliance  which  she  believes  preju- 
dicial to  his  interests.  Her  own  fortune  is  small, 
and  he  has  scarcely  at  command  the  means  and 
influence  to  purchase  a  dispensation  from  his  vow 
of  celibacy,  even  if  he  desired  it.  But  he  is  rather 
the  adored  than  the  adorer.  He  submits  to  be 
loved,  and  the  love  lavished  upon  him  is  so 
strong,  so  true,  that  he  must  be  marble-hearted 
indeed  did  he  not  respond  to  it  with,  at  least,  a 
tender  pity  akin  to  love. 

But  Mdlle.  Ai'sse's  chair  is  waiting.  The  chev- 
alier will  probably  escort  her  home.  Madame  de 
Tencin  and  her  guests  compliment  and  congrat- 
ulate the  belle  Circassienne  on  her  apparently 
improved  health.  She  looks  bright  and  happy 
as  she  leaves  the  salon,  leaning  on  her  chevalier's 
arm.  But  she  has  exerted  herself  unusually  to- 
day, and  feels  much  fatigued  on  arriving  at  her 
home;  so  much  so  that,  reclining  on  a  sofa,  she 
sinks  almost  immediately  into  a  deep  slumber. 
It  has  continued  an  hour  or  more,  yet  still  she 
sleeps  ;  she  stirs  not. 

The  chevalier  waits  to  say  farewell.  He  is  a 
great  lover  of  the  chase,  and  is  about  to  leave 
Paris  for  awhile  to  hunt  the  wild  boar  and  the 
wolf  on  his  estate  in  the  forest  of  Poitou.  lie 
approaches  the  sofa.      He  is  struck   by  the  ashy 


268  THE    OLD   REGIME 

paleness  of  the  sleeper  ;  then  raises  the  arm  that 
hangs  listlessly  by  her  side.  Ah  !  how  cold  !  how 
nerveless !  All  know  that  touch,  and  what  a  thrill 
it  sends  through  the  frame — the  chevalier's  lady- 
love sleeps  the  sleep  of  death ! 

Many  had  been  the  guesses  and  speculations 
in  years  gone  by  as  to  the  real  origin  of  Mdlle. 
Ai'sse  ;  but  latterly,  except  in  the  immediate  circle 
in  which  she  was  brought  up,  the  gay  world  had 
almost  forgotten  her.  She  had  withdrawn  from 
it,  and  the  charm  of  more  youthful  beauties  how 
formed  the  subject  of  the  flattering  effusions  of 
drawing-room  poets.  She  first  came  to  France  at 
about  the  age  of  four  years  with  the  Comte  de 
Ferriol,  French  ambassador  at  the  court  of  the 
Sultan.  He  had  bought  her  for  three  hundred 
piasters  in  the  slave-market  at  Constantinople, 
having,  when  casually  passing  through  it,  been 
struck  by  her  childish  grace,  her  beauty  and  her 
tears.  He  named  her  Haidee,  and  placed  her,  on 
his  return,  with  his  brother's  wife,  Madame  de 
Ferriol,  to  be  carefully  educated  during  his  fur- 
ther absence  in  Turkey.  Notwithstanding  this 
story,  it  was  generally  believed  that  the  little 
girl  was  the  count's  own  daughter,  and  her 
mother  the  very  handsome  Turkish  woman  who 
came  to  France  with  them,  and  resided  in  his 
house  while  he  remained  in  Paris. 

It    was,  however,   given   out   that    Haidee  was 
actually  a  Circassian  princess,  captured  with  other 


LES  DEVOTIONETTES  269 

children  and  women  by  a  party  of  Turks  on  a 
marauding  expedition  into  the  territory  of  the 
prince,  her  father.  Indistinct  memories  were  said 
to  float  in  her  mind  of  the  splendours  of  the  pal- 
ace that  was  her  early  home,  and  were  received  as 
confirmatory  of  M.  de  Ferriol's  account  of  his 
protegee.  The  count  provided  liberally  for  her. 
She  was  reared  in  luxury,  and  dressed  at  all 
times  as  befitted  the  rank  of  a  princess  and  her 
superb  Oriental  beauty. 

The  Hotel  Ferriol  was  the  resort  of  the  beaux 
esprits  of  the  dissolute  society  of  the  regency. 
Madame  de  Ferriol,  like  her  sister,  Madame  de 
Tencin,  was  a  frequenter  of  the  Palais  Royal,  and 
was  the  friend  of  Madame  de  Parabere  and  the 
regent's  mistresses  generally.  In  this  corrupt  so- 
ciety the  youthful  Haidee  grew  to  womanhood. 
She  says  of  herself,  "_/'  ai  ete  le  jouet  dcs  pas- 
sions." But  by-and-by  Madame  de  Ferriol  and 
her  sister  became  what  the  old  cardinal,  with  a 
slightly  sarcastic  smile,  used  to  call  "divotion- 
nettes."  They  left  off  rouge,  went  daily  to  mass 
and  confessed.  Then  arose  Madame  de  Ferriol's 
anxiety  for  the  conversion  of  her  brother's  protegee. 
But  already  she  was  half  converted.  She  had 
fallen  in  love  with  the  chevalier,  and  desired  to 
reform,  fearing  that  she  was  unworthy  of  his  love. 
" Ma  mauvaise  conduit e  ma  vendue  miserable"  she 
exclaims. 

Henceforth    the   chevalier   is   all   the  world    to 


270  THE    OLD   REGIME 

her.  Yet  still  she  continues  to  appear  at  the 
theatre  with  Madame  de  Parabere,  rather  naively 
expressing  a  hope  that  it  may  be  charitably  sup- 
posed she  is  not  acquainted  with  the  secrets  of 
her  dissolute  life.  Voltaire  addressed  many  of 
his  adulatory  vers  de  salon  to  Mdlle.  Ai'sse,  and 
sometimes  corresponded  with  her.  The  sons  of 
Madame  de  Ferriol,  the  Marquis  de  Pont  de 
Veyle  and  le  Comte  d'Argental,  were  his  chers 
anges.  Naturally,  then,  she  had  her  full  share  of 
the  poetic  incense  he  distributed  so  lavishly. 

When  the  Comte  de  Ferriol  died,  he  left  his 
adopted  daughter  a  legacy  of  fifty  thousand  francs, 
and  an  annuity  of  four  thousand. 

It  would  seem  that  the  Due  d' Orleans,  son  of 
the  regent,  had  seen  and  admired  Mdlle.  Ai'sse, 
at  the  Palais  Royal  reunions.  Having  become 
a  widower  two  years  after  his  marriage  with  the 
Princess  of  Baden,  and  hearing  that  Mdlle.  Ai'sse 
had  left  off  rouge  and  was  now  a  strict  devotee, 
he  determined,  after  due  consideration,  to  ask  her 
to  be  his  wife  —  a  la  main  gauche }  perchance  ;  or 
he  may  have  thought  that,  as  a  Circassian  princess, 
she  was  eligible  as  regarded  royal  birth,  for  his 
ideas  concerning  the  affairs  of  every-day  life  were 
no  less  singular  than  his  religious  views.  On 
arriving  at  her  residence  on  his  matrimonial 
errand,  the  lady  was  not  at  the  moment  able  to 
receive  him.  While  waiting  for  her  appearance, 
it  happened  that  the  fastenings  of  some  portion  of 


A    WARNING   SIGN  FROM  ON  HIGH        2  "J  I 

his  clothing  gave  way.  He  was  much  struck  by 
so  remarkable  a  circumstance,  and  with  devout 
resignation  received  it  as  a  warning  sign  from  on 
high  that  the  marriage  he  contemplated  was  not 
one  of  those  made  in  heaven,  therefore,  not 
approved  there. 

Congratulating  himself  on  being  spared  from 
having  run  counter  to  the  wishes  of  Providence, 
he  addressed  a  few  crazy  compliments  to  the  lady 
and  took  his  leave,  without  uttering  a  word  on  the 
subject  to  which  she  owed  his  visit.  He  was 
known  to  be  not  quite  compos  mentis,  so  that  his 
eccentricities  rarely  excited  surprise.  He  believed 
neither  in  births  nor  deaths.  When  told  of  the 
death  of  Mdlle.  Aisse,  he  was  exceedingly  angry, 
said  it  was  impossible  ;  the  king  had  concealed  her 
to  keep  her  out  of  his  sight. 

A  daughter,  born  in  England,  when  Mdlle. 
A'i'sse  was  on  a  visit  to  the  Countess  of  Boling- 
broke,  was  christened  Celanie,  and  afterwards 
brought  up  in  France,  at  the  Convent  of  Sens, 
under  the  name  of  Miss  Black.  In  those  very 
unpleasing  letters  to  Madame  Calendrini,  consist- 
ing chiefly  of  idle  gossip  concerning  the  depraved 
society  of  her  day,  Mdlle.  Ai'sse's  visits  to  this 
daughter  are  sometimes  referred  to.  In  1 740  the 
chevalier  acknowledged  Miss  Black,  and  she  left 
her  convent  to  marry  the  Vicomte  de  Nanthia  — 
un  gentilhomme  de  Pc'rigord. 

Voltaire,   writing    to    his  cJicr  ange   d'Argental 


272  THE    OLD   REGIME 

in  1 76 1,  mentions  the  death  of  the  Chevalier 
d'Aydie,  and  the  end  of  this  little  romance.  On 
the  history  or  legend  of  this  supposed  Circassian 
princess,  the  opera  of  Haidee  is  thought  to  have 
been  founded. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

Conspiracy  of  the  Marmosets.  —  The  Due  de  Gevres.  —  The 
Ducal  Gambling-House.  —  An  Interesting  Invalid.  —  Court 
Secrets. — Tapestry- Working  Statesmen. —  The  Queen  Grows 
Jealous.  —  The  Coiffure  of  Madame  de  Gontaut.  —  Madame 
de  Mailly.  —  The  King  Accepts  a  Mistress.  —  The  Petits 
Soupers  at  Choisy.  —  Stanislaus  Leczinski.  —  The  Brave 
Brehant  de  Plelo.  —  The  Court  of  Lorraine.  —  Death  of 
Madame  de  Vintimille. 

"BpERY  smoothly,  very  pleasantly,  would 
(Ji|f  have  glided  on  the  life  of  the  aged 
cardinal-minister,  but  that  from  time 
to  time  theological  quarrels  were  forced  on  his 
attention  by  the  unquiet  and  domineering  spirit  of 
a  portion  of  the  clergy.  Still,  he  kept  on  the  even 
tenor  of  his  way,  on  the  whole  but  slightly  dis- 
turbed by  them.  If  his  ministerial  course  did  not 
always  prove  a  pathway  of  roses,  the  thorns  that 
had  hitherto  beset  it  were  few. 

When  Mazarin  died,  the  cJiansonnicrs  wrote  what 
they  called  his  epitaph  : 

"  Ci  git  T  Eminence  deuxieme, 
Dieu  nous  garde  d'un  troisieme." 

But  the  mild  sway  of   "  Son  Eminence  troisieme," 
and  his  economical  administration  of  the  finances, 

273 


2  74  THE    OLD  REGIME 

already  gave  more  than  a  promise  to  France  of 
returning  national  prosperity.  The  daily  prayer 
of  the  people --as  the  best  blessing  that  heaven 
could  bestow  on  them  —  was  that  the  old  cardi- 
nal's life  might  be  prolonged,  and  his  bodily  health 
and  mental  vigour  continue  unimpaired.  Clouds, 
however,  were  beginning  to  obscure  the  political 
horizon.  There  were  rumours  of  war,  and  signs 
of  domestic  annoyances.  Of  the  latter  was  the 
intrigue  named  the  "  Conspiracy  of  the  Marmo- 
sets." 

The  Dues  de  Gevres  and  d'Epernon,  with  M.  de 
Coigny,  pages  de  cour,  weary  of  the  monotony  of 
the  court,  and  of  so  unprecedented  a  state  of 
things  as  a  young  king  without  a  mattress  e-cn- 
titrc,  resolved  to  attempt  to  bring  about  the 
change  they  had  long  vainly  been  waiting  for. 
They  looked  on  the  cardinal  as  the  cause  of  the 
king's  persistent  indifference  to  the  unceasing 
attacks  made  upon  him  by  aspiring  ladies.  By 
insidiously  disparaging  him,  as  too  much  attached 
to  the  "  Systeme  Antiquaille,"  they  hoped  to  suc- 
ceed in  undermining  his  influence,  also  securing 
his  dismission.  The  Due  de  Richelieu  secretly 
supported  these  views  of  the  younger  courtiers. 
He  was  a  favourite  with  the  king,  whose  ennui  he 
sometimes  dispelled  by  highly  embellished  narra- 
tions of  his  numerous  adventures.  He  would  also 
gaily  rally  him  on  his  "extreme  sagesse,"  and 
laughingly  suggest  that  la  belle  Mdlle.  de  A 


THE   DUC  DE    GEVRES  2J$ 

or   Mdme.    de    B might   almost    contest   the 

palm  of  beauty  with  the  queen. 

Louis  XV.  was  as  remarkably  taciturn  as  polite 
and  gracious  in  manner.  He  therefore  replied 
not  to  this  badinage,  which  he  permitted  because 
it  amused  him.  He  smiled  only  ;  what  his 
thoughts  were,  it  would  have  been  difficult  to 
guess.  To  hint  at  the  cardinal's  imperfections 
was,  as  Richelieu  doubtless  knew,  more  perilous 
than  to  insinuate  that  there  were  younger  and 
fairer  women  than  the  queen.  He  did  not  ven- 
ture to  attempt  it,  but  discreetly  left  that  hazard- 
ous part  of  the  intrigue  to  others. 

The  Due  de  Gevres  was  at  his  chateau  at  St. 
Ouen,  when  the  king  suddenly  took  a  fancy  to 
employ  his  idle  hours  in  working  tapestry,  as  so 
many  gentlemen  did  at  that  period.  Impatient  to 
begin,  a  messenger  was  despatched  immediately 
to  Paris  for  canvas  for  the  seats  of  four  chairs, 
wools,  silks,  needles,  and  whatever  else  might  be 
needed  for  his  undertaking  ;  another  messenger, 
at  the  same  time,  went  off  in  all  haste  to  summon 
the  Due  de  Gevres  to  Versailles.  He  excelled  in 
all  the  fashionable  gentleman-like  needlework  of 
the  day,  and  the  king  wished  for  instruction  from 
so  great  a  master  in  the  art.  The  duke  lived  in 
princely  style  at  St.  Ouen  —  chamberlains,  gentle- 
men of  the  household,  and  a  retinue  scarcely  less 
numerous  than  that  usually  accompanying  the 
king.      Yet  he  was  overwhelmed  with  debts,  and 


276  THE    OLD   REGIME 

his  estates  were  mortgaged.  His  hotel  in  Paris 
was  let  as  a  gambling-house,  and  from  his  share 
of  the  proceeds  of  the  tables  he  now  derived  his 
sole  income.  It  was,  however,  a  large  one,  for 
gambling  had  become  a  mania  with  all  classes. 

When  the  messenger  from  Versailles  arrived  at 
St.  Ouen,  the  duke,  slightly  indisposed,  it  was  said, 
was  reclining,  supported  by  cushions,  on  a  couch 
of  green  and  gold  damask  with  curtains  of  the 
same  looped  back  by  green  ribands  and  roses. 
He  was  wrapped  in  a  wadded  robe  de  ckambre  of 
green  and  gold  silk ;  but,  as  a  covering  for  his 
head,  instead  of  a  cap  of  some  sort,  the  interesting 
invalid  wore  a  grey  felt  Henri  IV.  hat,  bordered 
with  green  and  gold,  and  adorned  with  a  long 
green  feather.  A  green  and  gold  coverlet  was 
partly  thrown  over  him,  from  under  which  peeped 
forth  a  green  and  gold  slipper.  A  green  and  gold 
fan,  and  a  bunch  of  rue  for  a  bouquet,  lay  on  the 
couch  ;  a  green  and  gold  work-table  stood  beside 
it,  on  which  were  his  scissors  and  prints  for  de- 
coupler. His  tapestry  frame  was  near  at  hand,  but 
he  was  then  amusing  himself  with  green  silk  and 
gold  thread  knotting. 

In  spite  of  his  distressingly  enfeebled  condition, 
the  duke  magnanimously  responded  to  the  call 
of  his  sovereign.  The  Due  d'Epernon  (whose 
especial  weakness  was  a  fondness  for  surgery,  and 
who  always  had  a  lancet  with  him,  being  ready 
and  willing  to  bleed  any  one  weak  enough  to  allow 


COURT  SECRETS  2J7 

him)  accompanied  his  friend,  and  with  all  speed 
they  proceeded  to  Versailles.  The  king  had 
received  the  materials  for  his  work,  and  was  ad- 
miring the  designs  for  his  chair  seats.  The  young 
Comte  de  Maurepas,  already  known  for  his  caustic 
remarks,  was  with  him.  After  listening  to  the 
eloquence  of  the  duke  on  the  subject  of  needle- 
work, but  apparently  with  more  contempt  than 
admiration,  the  count  said,  addressing  the  king, 
"  Sire,  your  majesty  is  far  more  courageous  than 
your  great  ancestor,  Louis  XIV." 

"  How  so  ?  "  inquired  the  king. 

"He,"  replied  Maurepas,  "would  never  under- 
take more  than  one  siege  (siege)  at  a  time,  but 
your  majesty  has  the  courage  to  undertake  four." 

Whether  the  king  received  this  remark  as 
complimentary,  or  otherwise,  we  are  not  informed. 

The  tapestry  work  afforded  the  Due  de  Gevres 
and  the  other  courtiers  in  his  plot  the  opportunity 
they  had  desired  of  impressing  their  views  on  the 
mind  of  the  king.  And  they  seem  to  have 
brought  him  so  near  to  their  way  of  thinking  that  he 
agreed  with  them  that  the  cardinal  had  arrived  at 
a  time  of  life  when  the  business  of  state  must 
naturally  be  a  burden,  and  that  it  was  desirable  to 
relieve  him  of  it.  His  courtiers  were  delighted, 
but  were  unwilling  to  have  it  known  that  it  was 
they  who  had  advised  the  displacement  of  Fleury. 
The  king  promised  absolute  secrecy.  But  the 
cardinal  had  more  friends  than  foes  in  the  court. 


2yS  THE    OLD  REGIME 

Secrets  to  be  kept  there  "  should  be  dumb  to 
very  walls."  But  this  secret  was  known  at  Issy, 
where  the  cardinal  was  staying,  the  very  next  day. 

Fleury  never  remonstrated.  Repairing  at  once 
to  Versailles,  he  tendered  his  resignation,  assign- 
ing, as  a  reason  for  so  doing,  those  considerations 
urged  on  the  king  by  the  Due  de  Gevres  on  the 
previous  morning.  The  king  was  confused ;  he 
seemed  as  one  conscience-stricken.  The  horrors 
of  the  impending  situation  at  the  same  time  rose 
up  before  his  indolent  mind.  How  was  he  to 
carry  on  the  government  of  his  kingdom  if  his 
preceptor  were  not  at  his  elbow  to  direct  him  ? 
Where  find  a  minister  disinterested  and  able  as 
Fleury  had  proved  himself  ?  or,  if  as  able,  that 
could  replace  the  confidant,  the  friend,  the  parent 
he  had  been  to  him  from  childhood  ?  He  im- 
plored the  old  cardinal  still  to  keep  in  his  hands 
the  guidance  of  the  helm  of  state ;  and  at  the 
same  time  informed  him  who  were  his  foes,  and 
the  nature  of  their  counsels.  More  disposed  to 
be  amused  at  this  shallow  intrigue  than  to  take 
revenge  on  the  tapestry-working  statesmen,  the 
cardinal  thought  the  duke  and  his  companions 
sufficiently  punished  by  their  mortification  at  the 
exposure  of  their  schemes,  and  the  order  from  him, 
as  minister,  signed  by  the  king,  to  refrain  from 
visiting  either  Paris  or  Versailles  for  the  next  few 
months. 

This    plot,    which    threatened    so    much    and 


THE    QUEEN  GROWS  JEALOUS  279 

achieved  so  little,  was  soon  after  the  theme  of 
conversation  and  laughter  in  the  salons  as  the 
"conspiration  des  marmousets"  an  epithet  which 
did  not  tend  to  soothe  the  vexed  feelings  of  its 
authors.  However,  one  result  of  this  intrigue 
was  to  convince  the  court  that  the  reign  of 
Fleury  was  to  endure  to  the  end  of  his  days. 
As  he  had  passed  his  eightieth  year,  there  were 
many  who  believed  or  hoped  that  the  term  of 
those  days  was  nigh  at  hand.  Yet  it  was  gen- 
erally conceded  that  the  king  must  at  once  be 
roused  from  his  lethargy,  apathy,  or  whatever 
the  spell  might  be,  that  rendered  him  insensible 
to  the  blandishments  of  beauty  and  blinded  him 
to  the  faded  appearance  of  the  queen.  The  fresh- 
ness of  her  complexion  was  gone;  she  had  a 
careworn  look,  and  in  her  manner  generally  there 
was  an  expression  of  languor.  With  her  seven 
children  grouped  around  her,  she  looked  staid  and 
matronly  as  a  woman  of  forty,  though  but  in  her 
thirty-first  year;  the  king  was  in  his  twenty- 
fourth,  and  probably  more  remarkably  handsome 
than  at  any  other  period  of  his  life. 

Unfortunately,  the  queen  was  growing  jealous, 
and,  being  wanting  in  tact  and  spirit,  displayed 
her  feelings  ridiculously.  A  certain  Madame  de 
Gontaut,  an  exceedingly  pretty  woman,  whom  the 
queen  suspected  of  a  desire  to  supplant  her,  was 
made  to  feel  her  resentment  by  a  constant  fault- 
finding with  her  headdress.     Whenever  she  made 


280  THE    OLD   REGIME 

her  appearance  dressed,  as  she  believed,  to  per- 
fection, poor  Marie  Leczinska  would  single  her  out 
for  disapproving  remarks.  Calling  her  to  her,  she 
proceeded,  with  an  affectation  of  graciousness,  to 
remedy  the  supposed  defective  arrangement  of 
the  lady's  coiffure,  her  object  being  nothing  more 
than  to  ruffle  and  disarrange  it,  that  she  might 
appear  to  disadvantage  in  the  eyes  of  the  king. 
It  was  a  very  poor  ruse,  and  caused  much  amuse- 
ment ;  to  none  more  than  to  Madame  de  Gontaut 
herself  —  a  sparkling  brunette,  to  whose  beauty  a 
slight  dishevelment  of  the  hair  often  gave  added 
piquancy. 

But  it  was  not  Madame  de  Gontaut,  but  Mdlle. 
de  Nesle  —  soon  after  Comtesse  de  Mailly  —  who 
was  destined  to  fill  the  honourable  post  of  mai- 
tressc-cn-titrc,  so  long  tantalizingly  kept  vacant. 
She  has  been  compared  to  the  Duchesse  de  la 
Valliere ;  but  except  that  the  countess,  like  the 
duchess,  was  a  king's  mistress,  the  resemblance 
between  them  is  not  striking.  Previous  to  a  full 
assumption  of  the  new  dignity,  the  etiquette 
seems  to  have  been  presentation  to  the  queen, 
and  her  acceptance  of  her  rival,  whether  willing  or 
not,  as  one  of  the  ladies  of  the  palace. 

Madame  de  Mailly,  one  learns  with  surprise, 
was  of  the  Rambouillet  circle  (surely  a  stray 
black  sheep  that  had  slipped  in  unawares).  She 
was  the  eldest  of  the  five  daughters  of  the  Mar- 
quis de   Nesle.       Richelieu  had  remarked  her  as 


THE   KING   ACCEPTS  A    MISTRESS         28 1 

possessing  the  audacity  and  effrontery  necessary 
"pour  se  jeter  a  la  tete  du  rot,"  which  she  did  with 
all  the  fervour  of  a  bacchante ;  for  she  loved  the 
juice  of  the  grape,  and  especially  foaming  cham- 
pagne, which  she  challenged  the  king  to  drink 
with  her,  bumper  for  bumper.  In  their  earlier 
revels  and  pctits  soupcrs  she  far  surpassed  him  in 
the  quantity  she  could  take  with  impunity.  The 
cardinal  is  said  to  have  approved  the  choice  of 
this  woman  as  a  mistress  for  the  king.  Perceiv- 
ing that  a  mistress  was  inevitable,  he  looked  upon 
her  selection  as  an  affair  of  state.  Madame  de 
Mailly  was  considered  disinterested  —  attached  to 
the  king,  in  fact.  She  would  therefore  be  an  in- 
expensive superfluity,  and  as  she  possessed  neither 
ability  nor  ambition,  it  was  not  likely  she  would 
attempt  to  interfere  in  the  concerns  of  govern- 
ment ;  consequently  he  regarded  her  as  the  most 
eligible  of  the  many  noble  ladies  then  contending 
for  the  vacant  post. 

The  king  had  scarcely  a  voice  in  the  matter. 
He  neither  loved  nor  admired  Madame  de  Mailly. 
He  did  not  seek  her,  but  accepted  her  as  the 
mistress  provided  for  him,  with  the  same  apathy 
and  indifference  he  had  shown  when  provided  with 
a  wife.  Perhaps  no  young  man  was  ever  more 
entirely  thrust  into  vice  than  Louis  XV.  The 
dissolute  men  and  women  of  the  court,  reared  in 
the  depraved  society  of  the  regency,  long  de- 
spaired   of   his    becoming  one  of  them.      But  the 


282  THE    OLD    REGIME 

first  plunge  taken,  unhappily,  none  dived  deeper 
into  the  slough  of  vice  than  he.  Fits  of  remorse 
oppressed  him  at  times,  and  he  continued  strictly 
to  perform  the  outward  duties  of  religion.  The 
queen,  unintellectual  and  full  of  narrow-minded 
bigotry,  was  incapable  of  exerting  any  beneficial  in- 
fluence upon  him.  The  more  he  became  alienated 
from  her,  the  more  humble  and  timid  did  she 
appear  in  his  presence;  though,  as  in  his  religion, 
so  in  every  mark  of  outward  respect  towards  his 
wife,  he  was  never  known  to  fail. 

Following  the  example  of  the  grands  seigneurs 
of  his  court,  he  had  his  petite  maison  —  purchas- 
ing Choisy  for  that  purpose.  There  he  had  his 
private  kitchen,  fitted  up  with  every  requisite  for 
the  practice  of  the  art  of  which  he  was  so  efficient 
an  amateur.  Wearing  the  white  jacket,  apron, 
and  cap  of  a  cJicf-dc-cuisinc,  he  would  often  pre- 
pare some  choice  plat,  to  regale  those  of  his  in- 
times  who  were  admitted  to  share  in  the  orgies  of 
the  pctits  sonpers  of  Choisy.  The  disorder  that 
prevailed  there  becoming  publicly  known,  so  much 
indignation  was  expressed  by  the  people  that  the 
cardinal  thought  it  right  to  remonstrate  on  such 
conduct.  The  king  replied,  "tres  skhement,"  as 
De  Tocqueville  observes :  "Je  vous  ai  abandonue 
la  condnite  de  mon  royaume  ;  j  'espere  que  vous  me 
laisscriez  maitrc  de  la  mieuue." 

At  about  the  same  time  that  the  change  took 
place  in  the  habits  of  Louis   XV.,  news  was  re- 


STANISLAUS  LECZINSKI  283 

ceived  of  the  death  of  Augustus  of  Poland,  and 
the  re-election  of  Stanislaus  to  the  throne  he 
already  had  found  so  unstable  a  seat.  He  was  by 
no  means  desirous  of  resuming  so  uncertain  a 
dignity.  Russia,  his  former  foe,  favoured  the  pre- 
tensions of  another  elector  of  Saxony,  Augustus, 
the  late  king's  son  ;  but  three-fourths  of  the  nation 
had  pronounced  in  favour  of  the  deposed  King 
Stanislaus.  Content  in  his  retirement  at  Weissen- 
berg,  he  still  made  it  a  point  of  honour  to  respond 
to  the  call  of  his  countrymen,  lest  it  should  appear 
to  them  that  his  courage  was  not  equal  to  his 
fortunes.  Yet  he  knew  from  experience  how 
fickle  was  the  temperament  of  this  "nation  of 
high-souled  cavaliers;"  that  fidelity  was  not  to  be 
relied  upon,  but  rather  desertion  when  fidelity 
should  most  be  needed. 

Without  money  or  troops  —  though  he  proba- 
bly depended  on  aid  from  France --he  set  out  for 
Poland,  entered  Warsaw  in  disguise,  and  a  few 
days  after  was  proclaimed  king  by  his  partizans. 
A  Russian  army  of  ten  thousand  men,  commanded 
by  the  famous  General  Munich,  with  auxiliary 
troops  from  Austria,  had  already  entered  Poland, 
to  support  the  claims  of  the  elector.  The  parti- 
zans of  Stanislaus  then  fell  away  from  him,  or 
were  quickly  dispersed,  he  escaping,  with  diffi- 
culty, to  Dantzic,  where,  however,  he  was  well 
received.  There  he  awaited  the  French  troops. 
Neither   Louis   XV.  nor  the  cardinal  --  indisposed 


284  THE    OLD   REGIME 

as  was  the  latter  to  engage  in  war  —  could  entirely- 
desert  him.  A  small  detachment  of  fifteen  hun- 
dred men  was  therefore  embarked  in  two  or  three 
of  the  crazy  old  vessels  then  composing  the  French 
navy. 

Dantzic  was  besieged  by  Munich  when  the 
French  troops  arrived  in  the  Sound.  The  futility 
of  the  aid  he  had  brought  induced  the  commander 
of  the  expedition  to  refrain  from  landing  his  men. 
But  his  return  to  France  was  opposed  by  the 
young  Comte  Brehant  de  Plelo,  the  French  envoy 
at  Copenhagen.  He  thought  it  an  ignominious 
flight,  dishonouring  to  France  ;  and,  taking  upon 
himself  the  command  of  the  expedition,  Dantzic 
was  again  approached.  The  troops  were  disem- 
barked, and  the  first  Russian  line  attacked ;  but 
the  daring  young  commander  was  quickly  over- 
powered. He  fell,  sword  in  hand,  fighting,  and 
covered  with  wounds.  He  had  anticipated  such  a 
fate,  but  resolved  to  brave  it,  to  save  the  honour 
of  the  French  name.  His  small  detachment  of 
troops  capitulated,  after  holding  out  for  some  time 
in  the  advantageous  position  they  had  taken  up. 
They  were  sent  to  St.  Petersburg,  and,  by  com- 
mand of  the  Empress  Anne,  treated  with  marked 
distinction. 

Dantzic  was  taken  by  the  Russian  general.  A 
price  was  set  on  the  head  of  Stanislaus,  who,  how- 
ever, aided  by  some  of  his  followers,  contrived  to 
leave  the  city  unrecognized.     After  assuming  vari- 


THE    COURT  OF  LORRAINE  285 

ous  disguises,  and  encountering  many  perilous 
risks  and  hairbreadth  escapes,  always  closely  pur- 
sued by  the  enemy,  he  at  last,  in  sad  plight  but  in 
safety,  reached  Marienwerder,  the  frontier  town  of 
ducal  Prussia.  The  war  that  followed  these  events 
resulted  in  a  peace  which  gave  the  sovereignty  of 
the  Duchy  of  Bar  and  Principality  of  Lorraine  to 
Stanislaus,  with  their  reversion  to  France  at  his 
death.  He  retained  the  title  of  king,  but  re- 
nounced all  claim  to  the  throne  of  Poland.  In  the 
course  of  this  war  the  two  great  generals  of  Louis 
XIV.  lost  their  lives  —  Marshal  Villars,  in  his 
eighty-third  year,  and  Marshal  Berwick,  the  natural 
son  of  James  II. 

After  so  many  ups  and  downs  of  fortune,  Stan- 
islaus was  very  comfortably  settled  in  the  evening 
of  his  life.  He  was  much  beloved  in  his  new 
domains,  and  Lorraine  was  prosperous  and  peace- 
ful under  his  benignant  rule.  It  became  the  fash- 
ion to  pay  frequent  visits  to  the  little  court  of  Lor- 
raine, where  there  was  much  less  cold  etiquette, 
and  far  more  geniality  and  gaiety  than  at  Ver- 
sailles —  just  as  the  palace  Stanislaus  built  for  him- 
self, in  imitation  of  that  grandiose  structure,  was 
less  stately  in  appearance,  but  infinitely  more  de- 
sirable as  a  dwelling.  The  happy  ending  of  her 
father's  troubles  was  a  consolation  to  the  queen, 
in  the  midst  of  the  many  vexations  that  beset  her, 
and  the  frequent  mortifications  she  was  subjected 
to  in  the  dissolute  French  court. 


286  THE    OLD  REGIME 

Madame  de  Mailly  no  longer  reigned  at  Ver- 
sailles. Like  Stanislaus,  she  had  twice  been  de- 
posed and  re-elected.  In  the  intervals,  she  left  off 
rouge,  confessed,  and  sojourned  for  a  while  at  the 
Carmelites.  The  death  of  her  successor  had  just 
occurred ;  and  Louis,  in  silence  and  solitude,  was 
bemoaning  his  widowed  condition  and  refusing  to 
be  comforted.  Madame  de  Vintimille  had  died 
suddenly,  and,  as  usual,  poison  in  some  form  — 
perfumes,  gloves,  or  billets-doux  —  was  suspected, 
suspicion,  on  this  occasion,  glancing  at  Madame 
de  Mailly,  and,  more  absurdly  still,  even  looking 
askance  at  the  old  cardinal. 


3ean  3aaiues  IRousscau 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

Jean  Jacques  Rousseau. —  The  Salon  of  Mdme.  Dupin.  —  Jean 
Jacques  and  Mdme.  de  Crequy.  —  Fausses  Confidences. — 
Jean  Jacques  Returns  to  Paris.  —  Voltaire's  Grand  Homme. 

—  Un  Mari,  a  la  Mode  Louis  XV.  —  Voltaire's  "Mahomet." 

—  Debut  of  Mdlle.  Clairon. — A  Triumph.  —  Sensation  for 
the  Salons. 

[N  the  autumn  of  1741  Jean  Jacques 
Rousseau  —  whom,  after  a  wandering, 
aimless  life,  we  now  first  hear  of  in 
Paris  -  -  had  lately  arrived  from  Venice,  where 
he  had  cultivated,  to  a  certain  extent,  a  natural 
taste  for  music.  Undue  confidence  in  his  mu- 
sical talent,  and  in  the  value  of  some  pleasing 
but  simple  compositions,  flattered  him  with  the 
hope  of  an  artistic  career.  He  had  invented, 
as  he  supposed,  a  new  system  of  musical  notation 
by  figures,  which  he  was  desirous  of  explaining 
in  a  discourse  addressed  to  the  members  of  the 
Academie  des  Sciences.  In  August,  1742,  M. 
Reaumer  procured  him  the  opportunity  he  sought, 
and  Jean  Jacques  developed  his  scheme  to  a  com- 
mittee of  qualified  musicians,  of  whom  Rameau, 
now  in  merited  repute,  was  one. 

To     his     immense     disappointment,     Rousseau 

287 


288  THE    OLD  REGIME 

learned  that  his  system  was  not  new,  and  that 
it  had  been  already  pronounced  impracticable. 
He  was  then  thirty  years  of  age,  eaten  up  by 
vanity,  burning  with  a  desire  for  notoriety,  "  will- 
ing to  be  hanged,"  as  Voltaire  said,  "could  he 
but  have  been  gratified  by  his  name  being  placed 
on  the  scaffold."  An  operatic  trifle,  "  Les  Muses 
Galantes,"  was  the  means  of  introducing  him  to 
M.  de  La  Popliniere,  at  whose  private  theatre  it 
was  performed,  and  met  with  the  approval  of  a 
friendly  audience. 

But  Rousseau's  ambition  soared  far  beyond  the 
reputation  of  an  amateur ;  and  his  arrogance,  no 
less  than  his  ignorance,  was  displayed  in  his 
remark  on  the  works  of  Rameau,  whose  life  had 
been  spent  in  the  scientific  study  of  music,  to 
which  he  had  been  led  by  enthusiastic  love  of  it 
from  childhood.  "  Aux  Iroquois  ccs  distillateurs 
d' accords  buraques  /'"  exclaimed  Jean  Jacques,  in 
his  jealousy,  while  believing  also  that  Rameau  had 
seen  a  rival  in  him  and  his  "Muses  Galantes." 
Irritable,  restless,  distrustful,  capricious,  morbidly 
sensitive,  a  martyr  to  hypochondria,  Jean  Jacques 
sometimes  awakened  sympathy,  which  he  either 
repelled  with  brutality,  or  rewarded  with  base 
ingratitude ;  while  those  who  endeavoured  to  serve 
him,  he  hated  and  maligned.  Idealized  in  a  hun- 
dred volumes  a  hundred  years  after  his  death,  he 
no  doubt  appears  a  very  different  person  from  the 
Rousseau    known    to    his    contemporaries.       But 


JEAN  JACQUES  AXD   MDME.    DE    CREQUY   289 

with  such  speculations  these  pages  are  not  con- 
cerned. 

As  secretary  in  the  family  of  the  rich  fermier- 
general,  Dupin,  Rousseau  next  appears  on  the 
scene.  He  has  described  the  salon  of  Madame 
Dupin  as  frequented  by  the  most  distinguished 
society  in  Paris.  Wealth,  beauty,  rank  and  learn- 
ing, foreign  ambassadors,  grands  seigneurs  et 
dames  titrees,  forming  her  circle,  according  to 
Jean  Jacques.  It  may,  however,  be  considered  a 
somewhat  exaggerated  account  of  un  salon  bour- 
geois. At  this  time  he  was  "  un  asscz  joli  jeune 
hotntne,"  Madame  de  Crequy  informs  us  in  the 
memoirs  edited  by  M.  Courchamp.  He  had 
called  on  Madame  de  Crequy,  on  the  part  of 
Madame  Dupin,  to  enquire  into  the  character  of 
a  servant.  The  grande  dame  was  surprised  that 
the  dame  boitrgeoisc  should  send  to  her  for  infor- 
mation of  that  nature,  and  was  about  to  desire 
the  messenger  to  make  his  enquiries  of  her  in- 
tendant,  when  a  something  in  the  expression  of 
his  countenance,  she  says,  interested  her. 

Instead  of  acting  on  her  first  impulse  and 
curtly  dismissing  him,  she  desired  he  would  wait 
awhile.  On  inquiry,  it  appeared  that  the  dis- 
charged servant,  being  a  Protestant,  had  been 
unwilling  to  attend  prayers  in  the  private  chapel 
of  the  chateau.  The  orthodox  intendant  had 
therefore  dismissed  him.  On  hearing  this,  Jean 
Jacques,  in  a  melancholy  tone,  informed  Madame 


29O  THE   OLD   REGIME 

de  Crequy  that  he,  too,  was  a  Protestant,  also  a 
Swiss.  This  induced  the  lady  to  question  him 
further,  and  they  were  deep  in  theological  argu- 
ment when  the  nuncio  was  announced. 

Rousseau  had  been  humbly  standing,  hat  in 
hand,  while  Madame  de  Crequy  reasoned  with 
him  on  his  heresy.  He  was  now  motioned  to  a 
seat,  which,  in  the  utmost  confusion,  he  stumbled 
into  (his  gaucherie  was  excessive),  and  the  con- 
versation then  turned  on  Switzerland,  which  Jean 
Jacques  described  in  the  glowing  language  of 
one  carried  back  in  imagination  to  the  loved 
and  regretted  scenes  of  his  youth.  Madame  de 
Crequy  was  convinced  that  M.  Rousseau,  although 
a  heretic,  possessed  beaucoup  d' esprit  and  a  warm 
heart,  with  much  learning  and  candour  of  dis- 
position. She  told  him  she  would  be  glad  to 
see  him  again,  and,  when  he  took  leave,  rose  from 
her  seat  to  bid  him  farewell.  This,  above  all 
things,  pleased  him.  "  He  needed  it,"  he  said, 
"  as  an  encouragement,  and  to  put  him  at  ease 
in  the  presence  of  the  great."  "The  noble,  or 
rather  ignoble,  savage  "  was  then  concealed  under 
the  mask  of  obsequiousness  and  an  air  of  mock 
humility.  A  few  more  years  were  required  fully 
to  develop  "Thorn-me  de  la  nature." 

In  the  course  of  subsequent  visits  to  Madame 
de  Crequy,  she  discovered  that  he  amused  her 
with  "fausscs  confidences."  Naturally  she  was  an- 
noyed, but  excused  it  because  she  perceived,  she 


JEAN  JACQUES  RETURNS    TO   PARIS      29 1 

said,  "  that  he  had  more  illusions  in  his  head  than 
want  of  truth  in  his  character"  —  a  judgment  in 
which  leniency  and  truth  were  combined.  He 
had  an  illness,  it  appears,  about  this  time.  On 
his  recovery  he  obtained,  through  the  influence  of 
the  Dupin  family,  the  post  of  private  secretary  to 
M.  de  Montaigu,  then  leaving  Paris  for  Venice, 
as  ambassador.  This  engagement  continued  for 
nearly  two  years,  but  with  so  much  mutual  dissat- 
isfaction that  it  is  surprising  it  lasted  so  long.  In 
1745  Jean  Jacques  returned  to  Paris,  poor  in  purse 
and  with  but  gloomy  prospects  for  the  future.  He 
was  preparing  that  pretty  little  opera,  "  Le  Devin 
du  Village."  It  was  to  his  music  he  looked  for 
success.  He  was  also  reading  and  studying.  As 
a  writer  his  talent  was  scarcely  yet  known  even  to 
himself.  Somewhere  about  this  time  he  made  the 
acquaintance  of  Grimm  and  Diderot ;  but,  as  Mar- 
montel  says,  "Jean  Jacques  11  avait pas  encore pris 
conl cur." 

Voltaire  had  been  in  Paris  occasionally  only  for 
several  years.  He  says  in  those  brief  "  Memoires 
de  M.  de  Voltaire,  ecrites  par  lui-meme,"  "  I  was 
weary  of  the  idle  and  turbulent  life  in  Paris,  of 
the  crowd  of  petits-viaitres,  of  the  worthless  books 
printed  '  avec  approbation  ct  privilege  du  rot,'  and 
of  the  meannesses  and  plagiarisms  of  the  paltry 
wretches  who  dishonoured  literature,  when,  in 
1733,  I  became  acquainted  with  a  lady  whose 
opinions  were  much  the  same  as  my  own.      She 


292  THE    OLD  REGIME 

had  taken  the  resolution  to  spend  several  years  in 
the  country,  far  from  the  tumult  of  society,  in 
order  to  cultivate  her  mind.  This  lady  was  the 
Marquise  du  Chatelet." 

She  was  Voltaire's  "  respectable  Emilie,"  some- 
times "la  divine"  " la  belle"  " la  sublime."  He 
represents  her,  with  much  exaggeration,  as  rival- 
ling Madame  Dacier  in  classical  learning.  She 
was  a  philosopher,  of  course,  a  mathematician, 
metaphysician,  geometrician,  esprit  fort,  and 
"grand  JLomnie."  Voltaire  spent  six  years  with 
her  at  the  chateau  at  Cirey,  on  the  frontiers  of 
Lorraine  —  a  dilapidated  old  chateau,  of  which 
the  friends,  in  the  intervals  of  their  literary  pur- 
suits, superintended  the  repairing  and  embellishing. 
There,  too,  they  received  the  visits  of  the  philoso- 
phers and  savants  who  passed  that  way,  the  ami- 
able Emilie' s  courtesies  to  her  learned  guests  often 
exciting  bitter  pangs  of  jealousy  in  the  breast  of 
Voltaire.  For  Emilie  had  a  susceptible  heart, 
"grand  homme  "  though  she  was,  not  only  in  the 
complimentary  sense  in  which  Voltaire  applied 
the  epithet,  but  personally,  also,  in  her  outward 
appearance. 

She  resembled  "un  vilain  cent  garde"  says  her 
cousin,  Madame  de  Crequy,  and  all  her  learning- 
she  profanely  describes  as  "  a  sort  of  indigestible 
hotch-potch."  The  Marquis  du  Chatelet  was 
lieutenant-general  of  the  province  of  Lorraine. 
A  strict  observer  of  the  marital  etiquette  of  the 


UN  MAUI,   A    LA    MODE   LOUIS  XV.         293 

Louis  XV.  period,  he  never  intruded  on  the 
learned  leisure  of  his  wife  and  her  "  guide,  philos- 
opher, and  friend." 

It  was,  however,  in  the  solitude  of  Cirey  that 
Voltaire  wrote  "Alzire,"  "  Merope,"  "L'Enfant 
Prodigue,"  and  "Mahomet,"  and  began  his  "His- 
toire  general  e  depuis  Charlemagne,"  etc. 

A  lawsuit  then  obliged  Madame  de  Chatelet  to 
take  a  journey  to  Brussels.  Voltaire  accompanied 
her,  and,  her  legal  business  terminating  in  her 
favour,  she  became  the  possessor  of  the  splendid 
Hotel  Lambert,  in  the  He  St.  Louis,  where  she 
received  the  philosophers  of  extremest  opinions, 
and  the  prosiest  and  profoundest  of  the  savants. 
But  as  this  terrible  bluestocking  gave  little  or  no 
heed  to  suppers  and  dinners,  even  the  most  learned 
bites  of  the  world  of  philosophy  preferred  the 
salon  and  well-spread  table  of  the  more  hospitable 
Madame  de  Tencin. 

Voltaire,  on  returning  to  Paris,  was  desirous  of 
producing  his  play  of  "  Mahomet  "  at  the  Theatre 
Frangais.  It  had  been  played  at  Lille  in  1741,  as 
he  wished  to  judge  of  its  probable  effect  before 
bringing  it  out  in  Paris.  While  present  at  its  first 
representation  at  Lille,  a  note  from  the  king  of 
Prussia,  informing  him  of  the  victory  at  Molwitz, 
was  received  by  Voltaire,  who  immediately  read  it 
to  the  audience.  "You  will  see,"  he  said  to  them, 
"how  this  victory  will  lead  to  another."  But  this 
can  scarcely  be  called  wit  —  rather  it  was  clap- 


294  THE    OLD  REGIME 

trap  that  appears  to  have  answered  the  purpose 
he  intended.  The  play  of  "  Mahomet  "  was  sub- 
mitted to  Crebillon  in  Paris.  The  censor  con- 
demned it.  Voltaire  complained  to  Fleury,  who 
reversed  the  judgment  of  Crebillon,  and  the  play 
was  produced  with  great  success.  He  afterwards, 
when  seeking  admission  to  the  academy  —  objec- 
tion being  taken  by  Bishop  Boyer  to  this  work  — 
sent  it  to  the  Pope,  Benedict  XIV.,  who  replied 
very  courteously,  adding  a  gold  medal  to  his  thanks 
for  the  "  Belissima  tragedia."  Mdlle.  Dumesnil 
played  the  heroine  with  her  accustomed  ability, 
and  contributed  greatly  towards  its  success. 

The  theatre  was  well  attended  at  this  period. 
The  greater  part  of  Voltaire's  plays  had  been 
written  and  produced,  and  had  proved  attractive. 
The  troupe  was  also  highly  talented.  Mdlle. 
Ouinault  had  retired  to  enjoy  her  ample  fortune 
in  private  life,  though  still  comparatively  young 
and  at  the  height  of  her  fame.  "  La  belle 
d'Angeville "  shone  as  a  soubrette,  and  Mdlle. 
Dumesnil  was  still  unrivalled  in  la  haute  tra- 
gedie,  when  a  new  debutante  was  announced. 
The  debut  of  a  new  actor  or  actress,  or  the  first 
representation  of  a  new  play,  was  sure  to  bring 
an  overflowing  audience,  filling  every  part  of  the 
house,  and  crowding  the  stage.  The  debutante, 
on  this  occasion,  was  a  young  actress  of  eighteen 
or  nineteen,  who  for  some  years  had  wandered 
with    itinerant    troupes    from    theatre    to    theatre 


DEBUT  OF  MDLLE.    CLAIR  ON  295 

through  the  provinces,  playing-  in  tragedy  or 
comedy,  or  taking  the  role  of  prima  donna  in 
operatic  pieces,  and  premiere  danseuse  in  a  ballet. 

She  had,  however,  gained  some  reputation  at 
Rouen  in  the  leading  soubrette  parts,  and  was  now 
engaged  to  play  alternately  with  Mdlle.  d'Ange- 
ville  in  the  same  line  of  characters.  For  her 
debuts,  to  the  surprise  of  the  whole  troupe,  she 
selected  three  tragedy  parts,  the  opening  one 
being  Phedre,  the  role  de  triomphe  of  Mdlle.  Du- 
mesnil.  Her  presumption  astonished  the  great 
actress  and  excited  general  ridicule.  Curiosity 
brought  a  larger  audience  than  usual,  and  an 
ignominious  failure  was  anticipated. 

The  curtain  rises.  The  expected  Abigail  en- 
ters. Many  of  the  audience  had  seen  her  at 
Rouen;  but  few  —  except  that  they  are  aware 
it  is  Mdlle.  Clairon's  debut  they  are  to  witness - 
would  recognize  her  in  that  stately  actress,  who 
treads  the  stage  with  the  dignity  and  grace  of  a 
finished  artiste.  Perhaps  now  for  the  first  time 
they  notice  her  finely  chiselled  features,  her  noble 
brow,  and  air  of  command  ;  little  suited,  indeed,  to  a 
lively  soubrette,  but  which  full  well  became  Phedre. 
Her  voice,  too  —  so  full  in  its  tones,  so  clear,  deep 
and  impassioned — at  once  makes  its  clue  impres- 
sion on  her  hearers. 

Mdlle.  Clairon  has  certainly  taken  her  audience 
by  surprise,  and  the  town  by  storm ;  for  they  per- 
ceive that  a  great  actress  is  before  them.      Her 


296  THE    OLD   REGIME 

supposed  foolish  vanity  is  found  to  be  conscious 
talent.  The  opportunity  had  come  for  its  devel- 
opment;  she  has  fully  justified  the  confidence  she 
felt  in  her  own  powers,  and  it  is  unanimously ' 
acknowledged  that  what  she  attempted  she  has 
done  well,  even  more  than  well  —  grandly. 

Three  young  men  of  rising  literary  reputation 
—  Diderot,  d'Alembert,  and  Grimm  —  witnessed 
this  first  appearance  of  Mdlle.  Clairon  in  tragedy. 
They  had  expected  an  amusing  rather  than  an 
edifying  performance.  Now,  they  eagerly  seek 
the  young  actress  to  offer  their  congratulations 
before  leaving  the  theatre  to  spread  her  fame  in 
the  salons. 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

Death  of  Cardinal  Fleury.  —  His  Government  of  France. — 
Proposed  Monument  to  Fleury.  —  Disappointed  Ambition. 
—  Threatened  Descent  on  England.  —  A  Rival  to  Maurice 
de  Saxe. —  Seeking  Refuge  at  Versailles.- — -The  King's 
Hospitality.  —  The  "Mutual  Friend."  —  The  Cardinal's  Suc- 
cessor.—  Going  to  the  Wars.  —  A  Solemn  Thanksgiving. — 
Mdme.  Le  Normand  d'Etioles.  —  Illness  of  the  King.  —  "Le 
Bien  Aime." — Louis's  Letter  to  the  Duchess. —  Death  of 
the  Duchess.  —  Her  Last  Words. 

;REAT  changes  had  taken  place  in 
France  during  the  last  four  years, 
£j§>  both  politically  and  socially.  There 
been  war;  many  notabilities  had  passed 
away  from  the  stage  of  life,  and  new  celebrities 
had  appeared.  In  1736  died  Louis  the  XIV.'s 
favourite  son,  the  Due  du  Maine.  His  widowed 
duchess  had  since  reappeared  in  the  beau  monde, 
and  received  the  beaux  esprits  at  Sceaux,  with 
even  greater  iclat  than  before.  The  Rambouillet 
circle  was  broken  up,  the  Comte  de  Toulouse  — 
several  years  the  duke's  junior  —  having  died  in 
1737.  His  son,  the  Due  de  Penthievre,  had  gone 
to  the  wars,  and,  at  the  age  of  seventeen,  had 
distinguished  himself  at  the  battle  of  Dettingen 
-that  battle  so  disastrous  to  France,  the  ally  of 

297 


298  THE    OLD   REGIME 

Charles  Albert  of  Baviere,  then  contending  with 
Maria  Theresa  for  the  Empire  of  Germany. 

The  Marquis  de  Fleury,  nephew  of  the  cardinal, 
was  killed  in  that  battle,  and  not  long  after  — 
January  29,  1743  —  the  cardinal  died  at  Issy, 
while  the  war,  undertaken  contrary  to  his  wishes 
and  advice,  was  still  raging.  He  had  completed, 
within  two  or  three  months,  his  ninetieth  year, 
and  the  seventeenth  of  his  government.  Rarely 
has  any  statesman  begun  his  public  career  so 
late  in  life,  or,  having  done  so,  retained  power  so 
long. 

He  was  still  in  full  possession  of  his  mental 
faculties,  but  was  oppressed  with  anxious  fears  as 
to  the  result  of  the  war,  and  disturbed  at  the  large 
expenditure  of  the  public  money  it  necessitated. 
His  policy  had  been  so  essentially  a  policy  of 
peace  and  conciliation  that  he  had  not  thought  it 
necessary  even  to  be  ready  for  war,  in  order  the 
better  to  ensure  a  continuance  of  peace.  "La 
paix  au  dehors,  V economic  au  dedans"  was  his 
political  motto,  and  the  heaviest  charge  brought 
against  him  as  minister  was  that,  in  his  conde- 
scension towards  other  nations,  and  fear  of  dis- 
pleasing them,  he  sacrificed  too  much  for  the  love, 
or  the  need,  of  peace. 

Unlike  Richelieu  and  Mazarin,  Fleury  left  no 
fortune  to  his  family.  Two  or  three  recently  con- 
ferred empty  titles  and  honours,  and  the  post  of 
Premier  gcntilhommc  de  la  cJiambrc,  to  his  nephew, 


FLEURY'S    GOVERNMENT  OF  FRANCE     299 

de  Rosset,  was  all  they  derived  from  him.  The 
revenue  of  his  benefice  was  his  only  income.  His 
tastes  were  simple  ;  he  was  opposed  to  any  as- 
sumption of  state,  or  ostentatious  parade.  He 
had  amassed  no  gold  or  silver  plate,  no  collection 
of  objets  if  art.  The  furniture  of  his  small  estab- 
lishment comprised  only  what  was  useful  and 
good,  without  ornament ;  its  value  was  estimated 
at  not  more  than  five  thousand  ecus.  "  He 
governed  France,"  writes  de  Tocqueville,  "  as  he 
governed  his  own  well-regulated  small  household, 
with  the  strictest  order,  exactness,  and  economy." 
The  reputation  of  a  great  minister  was  denied 
him,  but  he  was  regretted  throughout  France,  as 
a  just  and  honourable  one,  who,  possessing  great 
power,  used  it  to  promote,  to  the  best  of  his 
ability,  the  welfare  of  the  people  and  the  prosper- 
ity of  the  nation. 

As  every  event,  however  serious,  was  then 
seized  upon  for  the  subject  of  an  epigram,  it  was 
said,  when  the  cardinal  died,  that  "  France  having 
been  ailing  for  the  space  of  a  hundred  years,  had 
been  treated  successively  by  three  physicians,  all 
attired  in  red.  The  first  (Richelieu)  had  bled  her, 
the  second  (Mazarin)  had  purged  her,  and  the 
third  (Fleury)  had  put  her  on  a  diet." 

The  king,  with  the  dauphin,  visited  him  con- 
stantly during  his  last  illness,  which  was  rather  a 
gradual  sinking  of  nature  than  any  decided  malady. 
Brought   up  by  him,  accustomed  to  obey  him,  to 


300  THE    OLD   REGIME 

confide  in  him,  and  to  look  upon  him  asx  a  father, 
Louis  XV.,  naturally,  was  much  affected  by  the 
death  of  the  aged  cardinal ;  more  so,  probably, 
than  by  any  other  bereavement  or  occurrence  of 
his  life.  He,  for  a  long  time,  proposed  to  erect  a 
monument  to  his  memory,  and  was  often  engaged 
with  Soufflot,  the  architect,  in  tracing  designs  for 
one.  But  as  his  sorrow  subsided,  his  natural 
indolence  and  the  pleasures  of  his  dissolute  court 
gradually  effaced  from  his  mind  the  memory  of 
Fleury,  and  the  proposed  monument  never  was 
executed. 

The  Cardinal  de  Tencin,  who  owed  his  berretta 
to  the  Chevalier  Saint-George,  had  expected  to 
succeed  to  Fleury's  post.  But  the  king,  in  his 
last  conversations  with  the  cardinal-minister,  had 
been  counselled  by  him  to  take  the  reins  of  gov- 
ernment into  his  own  hands,  and  he  resolved  to 
follow  his  counsels.  All  the  intrigues  of  Madame 
de  Tencin  and  her  friends,  to  obtain  for  her 
brother  the  coveted  appointment,  proved  ineffect- 
ual. The  honorary  title  of  minister,  with  a  seat  in 
the  council  chamber,  but  with  neither  portefeuille 
nor  emolument,  was  the  limit  of  her  success.  De 
Tencin  had  bound  himself,  in  return  for  his  eleva- 
tion to  the  cardinalate,  to  support  the  cause  of 
the  Pretender,  and  to  urge  on  the  king  the  inva- 
sion of  England.  Though  without  any  real  weight 
in  the  council,  he  could  at  least  lift  his  voice  in 
behalf  of  the  chevalier.      He  did  so,  and  pleaded 


THREATENED  DESCENT  ON  ENGLAND    3OI 

his   cause  so  warmly  that   both   king  and  council, 
apparently,  were  gained  over  to  his  views. 

All  that  he  asked  was  granted.  As  many 
vessels  as  Brest  and  Rochefort  could  muster  and 
fit  out  were  assembled  to  embark  troops.  The 
king  declared  war  against  England,  and  Prince 
Charles  Edward  left  Rome  to  join  the  French  and 
to  put  himself  under  the  guidance  of  Marechal  dc 
Saxe.  These  preparations,  however,  were  actually 
made  for  a  very  different  object  from  the  osten- 
sible one.  The  threatened  descent  on  England 
concealed  a  real  intention  of  invading  Holland. 
The  fleet  put  to  sea,  but  neither  England  nor 
Holland  could  be  reached.  A  violent  storm 
arose  ;  the  ships  were  scattered ;  some  were  lost ; 
others,  much  disabled,  returned  to  France.  The 
expedition  was  at  an  end,  for  there  was  no  other 
fleet  to  fit  out,  and  the  cardinal  and  his  sister 
lamented  together  over  their  inability  to  evince,  as 
they  had  proposed,  their  gratitude  to  the  cheva- 
lier. " Mais  qu'intporte!"  exclaimed  Richelieu, 
who  found  Madame  de  Tencin  in  tears.  "  La 
polite sse  est  toujours  faite." 

According  to  some  writers,  one  of  the  most 
poignant  sorrows  of  the  old  cardinal-minister's  last 
days  was  the  prospect  he  saw  of  the  evil  influence 
of  a  mistress  on  the  affairs  of  state.  He  had 
already  been  accused  of  jealousy  of  Madame  de 
Vintimille.  Death  had  removed  her  from  his 
path,  but  in  her  successor,  Madame  de  la  Tour- 


302  THE    OLD   REGIME 

nelle,  he  foresaw  for  the  king  even  greater  cause 
for  alarm.  The  former  was  plain  in  feature,  but 
lively,  spiritucllc,  and  ambitious.  The  latter, 
from  the  imperiousness  of  her  manner,  had  gained 
the  name  of  "la  grande  princesse."  She  was  a 
young  widow,  very  beautiful,  ambitious  of  power, 
and  lofty  in  her  sentiments  —  being  fond  of 
heroes,  and  determined  to  make  of  Louis  XV.  a 
hero,  and  a  rival  to  Maurice  de  Saxe,  whom  she 
especially  admired. 

As  her  sister  was  compared  to  Madame  de  la 
Valliere,  so  she,  with  as  little  reason,  was  likened 
to  Agnes  Sorel.  It  should  rather  have  been 
Madame  de  Montespan.  She  had  acquired  so 
much  influence  over  the  king,  by  a  system  of  art- 
ful coquetry  and  an  assumption  of  grand  airs,  that, 
to  gratify  her,  he  seemed  likely  to  become  as 
prodigal  as  hitherto  he  had  been  parsimonious  — 
prodigal  of  the  public  money,  of  course  (now  that 
there  was  no  cardinal  to  remonstrate),  not  of  his 
own  private  hoards,  even  for  la  belle  Madame  de  la 
Tournelle.  This  lady  was  a  protegee  of  the  Due 
de  Gevres  —  again  high  in  favour  —  and  the  Due 
de  Richelieu,  who  had  become  the  confidant  of  the 
king,  and  his  instructor  in  vice.  To  excite  his 
curiosity,  they  made  her  beauty  their  constant 
theme  of  admiration,  and  arranged  her  introduc- 
tion to  him  in  a  very  singular  and  unusual  manner. 

She  and  her  sister,  Madame  de  Flavacourt,  had 
been  residing  with  their  grandmother,  the  Duch- 


SEEKING   REFUGE   AT   VERSAILLES       303 

esse  de  Mazarin,  who,  dying  at  this  time,  and  her 
hotel  being  inherited  by  the  Comte  de  Maurepas, 
the  sisters  were  compelled  to  seek  another  abode. 
The  duchess,  having  been  dame  d '  atoms  de  la  rcinc, 
had  an  apartment  at  Versailles.  Taking  advantage 
of  this,  Madame  de  la  Tournelle  had  the  audacity, 
on  leaving  the  Hotel  Maurepas  -  -  having  con- 
certed with  her  friends  —  to  order  her  chair  to  be 
carried  to  Versailles  when  the  king  and  his  court- 
iers were  taking  the  usual  promenade  on  the  ter- 
race.* She  alighted  in  front  of  the  palace,  and 
dismissed  her porteurs,  to  the  great  surprise  of  the 
grandees  assembled  there  —  de  Gevres  and  de 
Richelieu  excepted.  After  greeting  the  lady,  and 
conversing  with  her  for  a  few  minutes,  the  Due 
de  Gevres  announced  to  the  king  that  this  was  the 
young  and  beautiful  'Madame  de  la  Tournelle. 
That,  driven  from  the  home  of  her  late  relative, 
she  had  come  to  seek  a  temporary  refuge  in  the 
duchess's  apartment  in  the  royal  chateau. 

The  lady  was  then  led  forward  and  presented 
to  the  king  by  the  Due  de  Richelieu.  His  majesty 
saw  that  she  was  young  and  fair,  and  was  almost 
as  much  charmed  by  the  naivete 'of  her  proceeding 
as  with  her  beauty.  "  II  plaisanta  avec  elle  sur 
sou  aventure"  Soulavie  tells  us,  and  assigned  her 
an  apartment  in  the  palace.  He  also  gave  shelter 
to   Madame   de   Flavacourt   under   his   hospitable 

*  All  the  old  usages  and  etiquette  of  the  time  of  Louis  XIV. 
were  still  rigidly  kept  up. 


304  THE    OLD   REGIME 

roof.  The  simple  Marie  Leczinska  received 
Madame  de  la  Tournelle  very  kindly,  and  both  she 
and  her  sister  were  added  to  the  list  of  her  dames 
du  palais.  But,  alas,  for  the  king !  the  hand  of 
the  fair  widow  is  sought  by  the  handsome  young 
Due  d'Agenois,  to  whose  merits,  she  allows  it  to 
be  known,  she  is  by  no  means  insensible.  She 
keeps  much  to  her  apartments,  also  ;  does  not  al- 
ways accept  the  invitation  —  for  she  acknowledges 
no  command  —  to  share  in  the  convivialities  of  the 
petits  soupcrs  at  Choisy.  Her  pretext  is  a  very 
bad  cold,  so  that  the  king  enjoys  but  little  of  her 
society.  When  she  does  appear,  she  is  usually  so 
muffled  up  in  an  ample  coiffe  —  being  fearful  of  in- 
creasing her  cold,  or  taking  a  fresh  one  in  the 
draughty  corridors  of  Versailles  — that  his  majesty 
obtains  but  an  occasional  furtive  glimpse  of  the 
beautiful  face  he  longs  to  leisurely  gaze  on. 

Carried  on  for  months,  this  tantalizing  system 
becomes  wearisome.  It  is  intimated  to  Madame 
de  la  Tournelle  that  she  will  do  well  to  retire 
from  the  court.  Then  steps  in  the  "  mutual 
friend"  —  the  infamous  dcbaucJic — the  Due  de 
Richelieu.  He,  now  nearer  fifty  than  forty,  is  the 
assiduous  flatterer  of  the  passions  of  the  king. 
Honour  suffers,  no  doubt;  "mats  qii  importc"  as 
he  would  say,  "favour  is  increased." 

Le  beaii  d'Agenois  may  have  a  face  as  hand- 
some as  the  king's,  but  he  has  a  remarkably  light 
purse.       He    cannot    transform    Madame's    small 


THE    CARDINAL'S  SUCCESSOR  305 

estate  of  Chateauroux  into  a  wide  domain  and  a 
duchy,  and  add  to  its  modest  revenue  eighty  thou- 
sand livres  yearly.  That  is  a  feat  which  the  king 
performs.  Also,  he  presents  her  with  the  royal 
letters  or  documents,  in  which  it  is  stated  "we 
have  created  our  well-beloved,  etc.,  a  duchess  pour 
sa  vertu  et  sou  merite"  enclosed  in  a  richly  jew- 
elled casket.  All  the  girlish  espieglerie  she  had 
hitherto  assumed  at  once  disappeared,  and  the 
same  haughty,  defiant  air  adopted  by  the  Marquise 
de  Montespan  towards  the  timid  queen  of  Louis 
XIV.,  poor  Marie  Leczinska  was  compelled  to 
tolerate  in  her  lady  of  honour,  the  stately  Duch- 
esse  de  Chateauroux,  now  maitrcssc-cn-titrc. 

Fleury's  advice  to  the  king  to  dispense  with  a 
first  minister,  and  to  take  the  duties  of  that  office 
on  himself,  she  warmly  approved.  But  his  indo- 
lence and  indifference  were  so  great  that  he  would 
scarcely  give  himself  the  trouble  even  to  attend  to 
affairs  left  incomplete  at  the  cardinal's  death  — 
"  ce  qui  se  passe  dans  sou  royaumeparait  nc  pas  ie 
regarder"  writes  Madame  de  Tencin,  "  Mais  il 
s  amuse  a  diriger  une  politique  occuh V."  "The 
king's  secret"  was  no  secret  at  all,  and  the  ahn- 
lessness  and  futility  of  his  so-called  secret  policy 
prevented  it  from  greatly  embarassing  his  minis- 
ters in  the  conduct  of  public  affairs.  To  certain 
propositions  made  to  Louis  XV.  by  Frederick  of 
Prussia,  the  duchess  counselled  him  to  accede. 
Having  done  so,  she  tossed  aside  his  embroidery 


306  THE    OLD   REGIME 

frame,  commanded  him  to  gird  on  his  sword,  and 
to  equip  himself  for  making  the  approaching  cam- 
paign in  Flanders. 

What  a  sensation  it  caused  at  Versailles  !     Who 
shall  describe  the  consternation,  from  the  queen 
down  to  the  most  insignificant   lackey — for  the 
news  spread  with  astonishing  rapidity,  from  the 
grand  salon  to  the  scullery  —  when   the   Due   de 
Richelieu   announced   that    Madame   de   Chateau- 
roux  had  exacted  from  the  king  a  promise  to  place 
himself    at    the   head    of    his  armies!     That    she 
should  consent  to  separate  herself  from  her  lover 
was  no  less  surprising  than  the  unwonted  energy 
of   the  king.      It   had   not   been   understood   that 
she,  too,  was  going  to  the  wars  —  though  it  was 
known   that   the   mistresses   of    Louis   XIV.   had 
shared   the   dangers   of   that   great   warrior-hero's 
expeditions,   and    that,  in  his  triumphal   progress 
through  conquered  lands,  "three  queens"  accom- 
panied him.      It  was,  however,  ascertained  at  the 
ceil  de  ba-uf  the  next  morning,  that  the  duchess, 
also,  was  going,  after  taking  leave  of  the  queen, 
and  that  the  king  would  receive  her  at  Epernay. 
"  She  was  to  fight  at  his  side,"  said  one  report. 
"  He    had    named     her     his     aide-de-camp,"    said 
another.      It    was,    indeed,    a    fertile    theme,   this 
going  to  the  wars,  for  bon-mots,  epigrammes,  and 
quolibets. 

It  appears,  too,  to  have  been  almost  a  party  of 
pleasure.      Elegant  carriages,  filled  with  still  more 


A    SOLEMN   THANKSGIVING  307 

elegant  ladies,  thronged  the  roads  leading  to 
Nancy  and  Metz.  The  king  had  already  performed 
prodigies  of  valour  when  Mdme.  la  Duchesse  ar- 
rived, and,  to  celebrate  the  taking  of  a  fortress  at 
which  he  had  assisted,  a  Te  Deum  was  about  to 
be  said,  or  sung,  in  the  Cathedral  of  Lille.  The 
duchess  arrived  in  her  carriage.  Grandes  dames, 
grands  seigneurs,  and  a  crowd  of  young  officers  vied 
with  each  other  in  pressing  forward  to  congratulate 
her.  Presently  arrived  the  king,  to  take  part  in 
the  solemn  thanksgiving.  He  was  on  horseback, 
and  surrounded  by  a  brilliant  staff  —  booted  and 
spurred,  a  clanking  sword,  a  waving  plume,  and 
ah  !  so  divinely  handsome.  Just,  too,  as  the  hero 
had  ridden  from  the  terrible  field  where  his  deeds 
of  valour  had  been  done,  he  entered  the  old, 
stately  cathedral. 

Most  considerately,  his  prie-dieu  was  placed 
immediately  opposite  the  enclosed  seat  set  apart 
for  the  duchess,  as  though  that  were  the  altar 
where  he  would  most  naturally  desire  to  pay  his 
vows  and  to  find  acceptance.  "  Radiantly  happy 
she  looked,"  we  are  told.  A  noble  pride  lighted 
up  her  beautiful  face,  and  added  lustre  to  her 
large  dark  eyes.  For  the  wish  of  her  heart  was 
accomplished.  She,  at  last,  had  a  lover  worthy  of 
her  —  a  lover  who  was  both  a  hero  and  a  king. 

Amongst  the  gay  throng  that  filled  the 
cathedral,  and  placed  where  a  full  view  of  the 
triumphant    dame    and    her   royal    lover    was    ob- 


308  THE    OLD   REGIME 

tained,  there  looked  earnestly  upon  them  a  lady, 
elegantly  dressed,  young  and  fair  as  the  duchess, 
and  no  less  ambitious  and  unscrupulous,  but  infi- 
nitely more  talented  —  it  was  Madame  le  Normand 
d'Etioles.  Her  husband  had  brought  her  hither 
to  see  this  fine  show,  and  "the  pomp  and  circum- 
stance of  war."  But  where  was  the  queen  ?  At 
home,  praying  in  her  oratory  —  poor,  simple-minded 
woman.  She  should  have  said  her  prayers  at  Lille. 
Balls  and  fetes  followed  the  thanksgivings,  and 
banquets,  too ;  for  Soubise  was  there,  with  Marin 
and  his  sous-chefs  and  an  army  of  marmitons.  The 
reviews  were  on  a  very  grand  scale.  Bezenval 
says  a  hundred  thousand  men  were  there,  beside 
the  forty  thousand  comprising  the  army  of  reserve 
under  the  Marechal  de  Saxe.  The  campaign 
opened  with  the  siege  of  Menin,  the  king,  at 
first,  as  ardent  and  valorous  as  before;  but  sud- 
denly, either  from  weariness  or  ennui,  he  seemed 
to  lose  all  interest  in  the  war,  no  longer  showed 
himself  to  his  army,  and  passed  his  time  chiefly 
in  the  society  of  the  duchess  and  her  sister, 
Madame  de  Lauraguais.  On  the  8th  of  August, 
while  a  Te  Deum  was  being  sung  for  the  success- 
ful besieging  of  Chateau-Dauphin,  the  king  was 
taken  ill.  The  next  day,  malignant  fever  devel- 
oped itself,  and  progressed  rapidly.  The  Due  de 
Richelieu  and  Madame  de  Chateauroux  affected  to 
disbelieve  that  he  was  in  danger,  and  allowed  no 
one  but  themselves  in  his  apartment. 


ILLNESS   OF   THE  KING  309 

The  young  Due  de  Chartres,  son  of  the  pious 
Due  d' Orleans,  forced  the  consigne,  as  representa- 
tive of  his  father,  first  prince  of  the  blood,  who 
alone  had  the  right  to  do  so.  With  him  was  Fitz- 
James,  bishop  of  Soissons.  He  explained  to  the 
king  his  danger ;  then  confessed  him,  and,  after 
Madame  de  Chateauroux,  by  his  order,  conveyed 
to  her  by  Count  d'Argenson,  had  been  desired  to 
leave  Metz,  gave  him  absolution  and  administered 
the  last  sacraments.  The  bishop  was  also  author- 
ized by  Louis  XV.  publicly  to  express  his  regret 
for  the  flagrancy  of  his  life,  and  the  evil  example 
he  had  set  his  people. 

While  the  duchess  was  escaping  from  the 
threatened  vengeance  of  the  populace,  in  a  car- 
riage lent  her  by  the  Marechal  de  Bellisle,  Marie 
Leczinska  and  the  dauphin  were  on  their  way  to 
Metz,  where  they  were  received  by  the  king,  then 
convalescent,  with  every  appearance  of  pleasure 
and  affection.  The  news  of  his  illness  and  danger 
had  reached  Paris  in  the  middle  of  the  night. 
The  churches  were  opened,  and  the  people  arose 
from  their  beds  and  thronged  to  them  to  pray  for 
his  recovery.  Their  grief  and  distress  were  un- 
bounded. Day  and  night  eager  crowds  sur- 
rounded the  houses  of  the  ministers,  hoping  to 
learn  that  some  change  for  the  better  had  taken 
place.  On  the  14th  the  disease  took  a  favourable 
turn,  and  a  courier  was  the  next  day  despatched 
to    Paris    with    the    news    of    his    convalescence. 


3IO  THE    OLD   REGIME 

Transports  of  delight  hailed  the  news.  The 
streets  rang  with  the  joyous  cry,  "  Notre  roi  est 
gueri."  The  courier  who  brought  the  welcome 
intelligence  was  carried  in  triumph  through  the 
city,  and  he  and  his  horse  were  nearly  suffocated 
by  the  kisses  and  embraces  of  the  multitude  in 
the  excitement  of  joy. 

Louis  speedily  recovered,  and,  after  the  siege 
of  Fribourg,  returned  to  Paris.  The  ardent  en- 
thusiasm of  the  welcome  he  received  momentarily 
affected  him,  and  he  asked  —  as  well  he  might  — 
"what  he  had  done  to  merit  so  much  love."  But 
" Le  bien  aime"  the  surname  with  which  he  from 
this  time  was  distinguished,  was  not  derived  from 
the  spontaneous  cry  of  a  devoted  people  so  much 
as  from  the  gaily  launched  epithet  —  taken  up 
and  repeated  by  the  almanacs  —  of  one  Vade, 
whom  Voltaire  calls  "  un  polisson."  But  all  en- 
thusiasm soon  ceased.  Louis  was  fearfully  bored 
by  it.  It  seemed  to  indicate  an  expectation  on 
the  part  of  his  subjects  that  the  evil  example, 
which,  when  the  fear  of  death  was  before  his 
eyes,  he  acknowledged  he  had  set  them,  was  now 
to  give  place  to  a  more  reputable  course  of  life. 
This  was  far  from  congenial  to  him,  and  he  be- 
came cold  and  ceremonious  in  his  behaviour  to 
the  queen,  evinced  great  repugnance  towards  the 
dauphin,  and  covertly  was  seeking  to  renew  his 
liaison  with  the  duchess,  whose  "bien  aimf  he 
alone  cared  to  be. 


LOUIS'S  LETTER    TO    THE   DUCHESS       3 1  I 

She  was  assiduously  playing  garde-malade  to 
the  young  Due  d'Agenois,  who  had  been  wounded 
in  the  Italian  campaign.  For  her  royal  lover  she 
affected  a  supreme  contempt  that  annoyed  him 
excessively.  The  courtiers,  perceiving  where  his 
inclinations  lay,  began  to  praise  the  firm  and 
noble  conduct  of  Madame  de  Chateauroux  under 
the  trying  ordeal  she  had  passed  through  at  Metz. 
This  gratified  the  king.  Immediately,  Maurepas, 
whom  the  duchess  regarded  as  her  enemy,  was 
despatched  with  a  letter,  and  further  was  charged 
to  inform  her,  verbally,  that  "his  majesty  had  no 
knowledge  of  what  had  occurred  at  Metz ;  that 
his  esteem  for  her  remained  unchanged,  and  that 
he  begged  she  would  return  to  the  court  and  re- 
sume her  office  of  dame dy honneur  to  the  queen." 
She  appeared  so  well  satisfied  that  she  extended 
her  hand  towards  Maurepas,  who  respectfully 
knelt  and  kissed  it.  Later  in  the  day,  d'Argen- 
son,  who  had  delivered  the  order  for  her  and  her 
sister's  retirement  from  Metz,  appeared  with  a 
list  of  the  courtiers  and  ministers  enclosed  in  a 
letter  from  the  king,  requesting  her  to  erase  the 
names  of  those  whom  she  would  wish  banished 
from  the  court.  She  obeyed.  D'Argenson's 
name  was   the   first.     The   next   day   she  fell   ill 

—  perhaps  from  the   excitement   of  her  triumph 

—  took    to   her    bed,   and,   after  an    illness    of   a 
few  weeks,  died  on  the  4th  of  December,  1744. 

Maurepas  and  d'Argenson  were  both  suspected 


312  THE    OLD   REGIME 

of  poisoning  the  letters  they  were  charged  to 
convey  to  her.  That  Jesuit  priests,  commissioned 
by  the  confessors  of  the  queen  and  the  dauphin, 
had  put  arsenic  in  a  box  of  bonbons  the  king  was 
accustomed  to  send  to  her  daily,  and  which  were 
made  by  himself,  was  another  mode  of  poisoning, 
as  unlikely  as  the  first,  by  which  her  death  was 
accounted  for. 

The  duchess  was  the  second  of  the  mistresses 
of  Louis  XV.  who  had  died  within  a  year  or  two 
of  each  other.  "  Vous  saves  si  fat  voulu  votre 
ploire,"  were  her  last  words  to  him  when  he  vis- 
ited  her  on  her  death-bed. 


END    OF    VOL.    I. 


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